


Hearts Never Forget

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate POVs, Alternate Universe, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Childhood Friends, DCBB2019, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019 (Supernatural), Friends to Lovers, Gym Teacher Dean Winchester, Happy Ending, High School Reunion, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-02 00:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 72,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: After fleeing his hometown at 17 in order to put some distance between himself and the straight best friend he’s still desperately in love with, Castiel has finally returned ten years later to attend his high school reunion.Dean isn’t expecting to see Cas again after he bailed on him without a word so long ago, and finally figuring out the reason why turns out to be one hell of an eye opener. He’s not going to let that stand in the way of convincing Cas to move back, though, especially since they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to this year's DCBB! I have been waiting for _ages_ to share this with you!
> 
> This year, I was paired up with the amazing [holydean](https://holydean.tumblr.com) as my artist, and well, you'll see how talented he is when you get to the art that's been embedded into the fic. Please make sure to head on over to his [Brianna](https://holydean.tumblr.com/post/188820161705/finally-can-post-my-pieces-for-this-years-dcbb-i>art%20post</a>%20to%20show%20him%20all%20the%20love,%20because%20he%20deserves%20it!%0A%0AThis%20fic%20was%20also%20edited%20by%20the%20wonderful%20<a%20href=) and [Eliza](https://twitter.com/The_Cake_Wench), who absolutely flew through this fic for me in order to get it in on time for the deadline.
> 
> Lastly, the entire idea of this fic came from a prompt from [Courtney,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBFirestarter/pseuds/CBFirestarter) so please know if it wasn't for her, this wouldn't exist at all.
> 
> Now... that's enough of my rambling! Please dive in, and I really hope you fall in love with these versions of these characters while you read as much as I did while writing it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** 2009: **

17-year-old Castiel Novak takes one shaky breath, aims his blue eyes directly at the digital camera staring back at him, and confesses, “I’m in love with Dean Winchester. I... I think I’ve been in love with him my whole life.” A tiny, tentative smile curves his lips as he thinks about growing up climbing trees and building forts with a freckle-faced, gapped-tooth Dean by his side. The kindest, gentlest soul he’s ever known. “I’m probably one of a hundred people in our graduating class who think they love him, but none of the others know him like I do. They only see the captain of the football team or a pretty face, but they have no idea how deep his beauty really goes.” 

He feels a strange sense of pride knowing that for all he doesn’t know at 17, this is one thing he’s absolutely sure of. “They don’t know how he got more excited after opening the hat, scarf, and mitts I knit him this year for Christmas than he did over the new gaming system his mom bought him. They don’t know how he sings beautifully in the shower but purposely butchers every song he sings when he’s driving behind the wheel of ‘his baby’ just to make me laugh. They don’t know how he only walks with his hands in his pockets and chews the inside of his bottom lip when he’s nervous. They don’t know that for how often he talks about his little brother Sam being the brightest kid he’s ever known, he’s every bit as smart as Sam is.” 

He looks down at his trembling hands and takes in a shallow breath, trying to steady them before he keeps talking. 

“I know people will see this and think we’re only kids. The teachers might not even use it in the time capsule video because they probably think ten years from now I’m going to be grown up and married to somebody else, and I’m either going to look back at this and laugh at what I thought was love or be so embarrassed in front of my partner that I won’t be able to face them. But I’m telling you, wherever I am in my life ten, twenty, even thirty years from now, I’ll still be in love with Dean. I might just be a kid, but I’m old enough to know love like this doesn’t come more than once in a lifetime, and Dean’s it for me. I’ll probably never have the courage to tell him face-to-face, but I had to say it just this once.”

He smiles a genuine smile now that it’s out there, and says it one more time. “I’m gay, and I’m in love with Dean Winchester.”


	2. Chapter 2

** Ten Years Later **

Castiel can’t help the flood of memories that overcome him as soon as he drives his Mitsubishi Lancer past the _ Welcome to Lebanon _sign. Who was it who said you can’t go home again? It’s been almost ten years since he left this town and he certainly didn’t have any plans to ever return, but life’s funny that way. 

He had stared at the computer screen with the digital invitation to his high school reunion on his desktop for a solid twenty-nine days before, in a moment of absolute insanity, he had clicked the _ yes _ box and submitted his reply on the last possible day to RSVP. 

It was insanity because there was no reason for him to come back. He has no family here, no lasting friendships, no ties to anybody or anything, just 17 years of memories he left to get away from in the first place. But here he is ten years later and they’re all coming back to him now anyway. 

He drives past the old ice cream shop he, Sam, and Dean spent their childhood frequenting, thoughts of three spoons fighting over banana splits making his lips quirk into a smile and his heart ache with loss. There’s the pizza place right across the road looking exactly the same, as if his shiny new bicycle should still be parked right out front while he holds a table for Dean to join him after football practice.

Their old high school is the next noteworthy building on the street, and he looks over the big hill it’s perched on top of with a fondness he didn’t even know he held inside of him when it comes to his high school career. There had been good memories there, too, of course. He and Dean using the school map trying to figure out where their lockers and then their classes were on that first day. The same table they sat at every day at lunch in the cafeteria, the food fights they barely escaped (and sometimes joined in on), the smile on Dean’s face when he made starting quarterback on the football team, and of course, the countless practices and games Castiel sat through on the cold, uncomfortable bleachers to cheer Dean on just to see Dean find him in the crowd and aim a single smile at him from the field.

And that, in a nutshell, is the reason he had to move away in the first place and—funnily enough—the very thing that made him come back.

Dean Winchester.

The love of his life.

The one person he’s never been able to get over, even with ten years of limited contact between them. It just didn’t matter. Every time he gets a Christmas card with Dean’s familiar scrawl on it, a _ like _ on a Facebook post he makes, or god forbid, he sees a photo online of the smile that still makes him feel weak in the knees, it's like he’s 17 years old all over again and sucked right back into Dean’s orbit. 

Because of social media, he knows that Dean’s the gym teacher at the same high school he ruled over in their teenage years, that he’s never married, and is still one of the smartest people he knows. Nothing brings him more joy than reading Dean absolutely tearing the MAGA supporters to shreds in the comments on Facebook posts, and even though they barely correspond directly anymore, he always feels a sense of pride over how progressive Dean is in his thoughts. Growing up in a red state in the kind of household he himself did (with supportive parents to a gay son) was extremely lucky on his part, and he knows Dean didn’t have the same experience, but here he is as an adult loudly posting about equal rights for gay people, women, and immigrants. By all accounts, Dean’s every bit the man Castiel dreamed he would grow up to be.

He’s just doing it without him, which hadn’t been anywhere close to what he dreamed about as a teenager. Or last night.

The only reason he decided to come to the reunion in the first place was to see Dean again. Maybe if he talks to him one more time and gets it out of his system, he can finally stop measuring every other man he meets up to him. With any luck, the ten years they’ve spent apart will have turned Dean cocky or completely uninteresting to talk to, and Castiel will be able to go back to his house and his job and finally move on. 

He doesn’t know if that’s what he really wants to happen or not, but it’s all he’s let himself think about because the alternative... Dean being just as kind, charming, and funny as he was when he left... is just too hard to consider. 

He pulls into the hotel parking lot barely a half hour before the reunion is supposed to start. He had planned on getting into town earlier, but he got a phone call from work that tied him up and resulted in him popping into the office which was meant to only be for a minute, but one thing lead to another and thanks to QuickBooks Online, he ended up leaving a whopping two hours late. There’s several people lined up in front of him when he walks into the lobby, and he looks down at his feet resolutely while he waits for his turn to check in. All he needs is for somebody he knew back then (like Dean) seeing him for the first time in ten years wearing wrinkled work clothes and smelling like the inside of his car.

He barely has the thought when somebody touches his arm.

He looks over sharply only to see _ a giant _ smiling down at him with a familiar face. “Castiel?”

Castiel couldn’t stop his smile from spreading for anything. “Sam Winchester,” he says fondly. “Look at you. A half a foot taller than me,” he chuckles in awe.

“It’s so good to see you,” Sam says, pulling him in for a one armed hug. “Dean didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“I didn’t tell him,” Castiel confesses. “We haven’t really kept in touch.”

Sam pulls a face he takes to mean Sam doesn’t believe him. “Really? He talks about you all the time.”

Castiel’s heart skips several beats. “He does?”

“Like, _ all the time. _ You’re the best friend he’s ever had, man.”

That thought makes him feel both incredibly pleased and incredibly guilty. “I’m looking forward to seeing him. Maybe after a shower and a fresh set of clothes, though,” he admits, getting a quiet laugh out of Sam. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Helping out Dean. He’s one of the teachers on the committee for this thing and he dragged me into it. Says using me for hanging decorations is easier than carrying a ladder around,” he says with an eye roll. 

That sounds so much like something Dean would say it makes his heart hurt. “Are you sticking around?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. I’ll be here most of the night. Are you leaving again tomorrow?”

“I have the week off, so I might stay a little longer. I haven’t fully decided.”

“Well if you stay, we should all hang out. Jo’s mom opened a diner that has _ the best _ burgers. Me and Dean are basically permanent fixtures there.”

“That sounds nice,” Castiel says genuinely.

“You’ve still got me on Facebook, right?” Castiel nods in response. “Well just message me if you decide to stay. Or Dean. Either way, it’d be awesome to catch up.”

“I’ll do that. It was nice to see you, Sam.”

“Same, man. I’ll probably run into you inside anyway, but if not, look for the tall guy hanging the hundredth balloon from the ceiling.”  
  
Castiel laughs as Sam slaps a friendly hand down on his shoulder again, and then Sam’s walking away leaving him feeling more like himself than he has in the last ten years. He closes his eyes and breathes in nice and deep, just the one time, letting himself remember for a moment how it feels to have friends, to feel like he has people who care about him. He doesn’t let himself linger any longer than that, because if he does, he knows he’ll never be able to convince himself to leave this town a second time.

Dean is ready to tear his hair out. How many fucking times does he have to tell Sam to place the damn balloons? There’s only eight dozen of them; it’s not that many. He whirls around for the third time looking for the stupid giant, when he finally sees him walking in the main doors. _ There he is, _ that fucker!

“Sam!” he yells from across the room. “What the hell are you doing? I need the rest of the balloons up!”

“You will never believe who I just saw checking—”

“Was it Robert Plant?” Dean interrupts him.

“No, but—”

“Eddie Vedder?”

Sam sighs. “No—”

“Then I don’t give a flying fuck, okay?” he says, not even bothering to mask the hint of hysteria that’s slowly but surely been working its way into his voice since he got here _ three hours ago _ to set up. “Hang the damn balloons.”

“Fine,” Sam says, a devious little smile on his face that means he’s definitely going to pay for not caring who’s here, but he’ll have to worry about that _ after _ the balloons. “Thank god you never got married,” Sam says under his breath as he hustles towards the huge plastic bag full of balloons.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m getting the feeling you would be _ the worst _ Bridezilla,” Sam says with a smirk.

“In this city, I’d get away with it,” Dean shoots back, sending Sam into a snort that dissolves into genuine laughter. “Two bundles by the front door, two by the back, two on either side of the bar and two—”

“Around the projection screen,” Sam recites. “I’ve got it, Dean.”

“Now that the tall people are doing what the tall people should be doing, the strong people will go do what the strong people should be doing.”

“You know _ talking about _ how strong you are actually makes you look weaker, right?” Sam tells him.

“You know your haircut makes you look like a sheepdog, right?”

Considering his brother stoops low enough to give him the finger, Dean walks away with a smile on his face knowing that round went to him. He goes out the back door to where Sammy’s truck is currently weighted down with more alcohol than even his graduating class could ever drink and groans in anticipation of the sore back he’s gonna have later as he grabs the first case of beer and carries it inside.

He’s been trying to avoid thinking about how much he’s really _ not _ looking forward to tonight since he started planning it almost a year ago. He’s done a damn good job, though, and he’s pretty sure nobody knows how much he doesn’t want to attend his high school reunion let alone plan the stupid thing, but here he is anyway. 

The thing is, he was hot shit in high school. Captain of the football team, most popular guy in school, hell, the whole world was at his feet. And now look at him.

Honestly, he likes working as a gym teacher because he likes making a difference in the kids’ lives he teaches, but according to the rest of the town, he’s nothing but a washed up legend. “The most eligible bachelor” in town who can’t make it to a third date with anybody. Turns out the idea of dating _ Dean Winchester _ is a lot more interesting than the reality. Nobody wants to hear about how he’s got the same friends he had in high school—well, the ones who stayed in town anyway—and he’s got Sam, and he’s close with his mom, and that’s really it. He’s “boring.” He cares too much about his family and friends and never wants to do anything fun, like get high or have a fucking orgy with people from Tinder. And now he gets to stand in front of a room full of people who thought he was the coolest guy alive ten years ago and try to pretend he doesn’t know the whole town probably thinks he’s a schmuck. It’s going to be awkward as hell to see the out of town people who think he’s a hero talk to the locals about what a boring celebrity he makes.

Not surprisingly, thinking about this shit while he’s moving the alcohol inside means that a half an hour later he’s feeling pretty pissy, sweaty, _ and _ achy, but the bed of the truck is finally blissfully empty. He finds Sam to let him know he just has to grab a shower and change his clothes in the room they gave him for free upstairs, then he’s actually jogging up the stairs to beat the elevator and dashing into his room. One Dean Winchester speed shower, a pair of new dark wash jeans, a forest green dress shirt paired with a creamy white tie with diagonal navy blue pin stripes on it, and a pea-size dab of hair gel later, he’s feeling like a brand-new man and is determined to have a good time tonight.

After all of the prep work that went into this today, hopefully he can have a couple of beers and enjoy the reunion instead of running around like a chicken with its head cut off. He slides his phone in his back pocket and his hotel room key in the front pocket, and he’s officially ready. Now no longer feeling the rush to take the stairs, he hits the down arrow on the elevator and waits for the _ ding _ to announce its arrival.

When it comes a minute later, the elevator doors pop open, and so does his jaw.

“Cas?” he asks, his heart suddenly beating a mile a minute in his chest.

Castiel Novak. The guy he grew up with, went to school with, hung out with every single day for as far back as he can remember. Cas was the best friend he ever had... right up until he left town with only a text message explaining he got into college in Omaha. They still follow each other on social media, but he hasn’t heard anything more than a _ like _ or a _ laugh _ on a Facebook post from him since that day ten years ago, despite all the times he texted or left Cas voicemails. And here he is in the flesh.

“Dean,” Cas replies. Cas looks like he’s staring at a ghost for about three seconds, but then he smiles so bright it’s damn near dazzling. 

Dean has no idea how his eyes manage to look away from a smile like that, but they definitely take in the broader set of Cas’s shoulders, how tall he’s gotten, how he looks adorable as hell with his hair just as messy as it always was but all dressed up in a blue shirt and a blue and green striped tie, which is when he blurts, “Hey, we match.”

Cas looks down at his shirt and then at Dean’s, and a blush blooms on his cheeks as he nods. “Yes, I guess we do.” The elevator doors try to close, but Cas’s hand darts out to hold them open. “Are you coming in?”

“Yeah.” Dean steps into the elevator and immediately gets a hit of a smokey, woodsy scent that makes his mouth water. He tries to ignore the appealing smell and aims a warm smile at the guy who used to be his best friend. Cas grew up real good. “Son of a bitch, it’s good to see you.”

He doesn’t know who moves first, but the next thing he knows, he’s in Cas’s arms and literally everything else disappears but the curl of hair tickling his cheek and how fucking happy he is to get a hug from Cas again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Jesus, Cas, I would’ve met you at the airport—”

“I drove,” Cas says, pulling away after a final pat on the back. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You still shoulda told me,” Dean insists, still floored that he’s standing here with Cas for the first time in ten years.

“Was Sam too busy with the balloons to mention running into me while I was checking in, or was I so boring that it didn’t cross his mind?” Cas asks.

Dean hangs his head for a second, vowing to kill his brother at the first opportunity. “Definitely the balloon thing, stupid jerk,” he mutters under his breath. “You look great, Cas. Shit. I can’t believe you finally came back home.”

“That makes two of us,” Cas says, sounding a little sad. 

Then Cas glances up and he follows his gaze, which is when he realizes... “We’re gonna miss the reunion all together if we don’t hit the freaking button.” Cas chuckles and Dean finds himself wondering how he ever went ten years without hearing that as he leans forwards to hit the big L for lobby. “I missed you, man.”

When he looks over at Cas, he’s looking at the floor but there’s a soft smile on his face. “I missed you, too. It’s—it’s really very good to see you, Dean.”

“You’d have to actually look up from your shoes for that,” Dean teases, which is totally worth it when he gets a look at those blue eyes he’s always been more than a little fascinated by. “There you are.”

Cas is blushing but that smile is still on his face. “Sorry. It’s been a long time.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean agrees. “How the hell did we ever go _ ten years _ without seeing each other? We were glued at the hip for our whole damn lives,” he chuckles. Cas shrugs, and that’s when Dean snaps his fingers and says, “Oh, yeah. You bailed on me at the end of the summer after graduation.”

“I didn’t bail on you,” Cas insists, but he sounds sorry, at least. “I got accepted to a college out of town.”

“Which you didn’t even tell me you applied to,” Dean points out.

Cas looks chastised and says, “Well. That was a long time ago.”

“Still felt like a part of me died when you left,” Dean says frankly. Cas glances over at him then, looking pained at the reminder, and Dean decides right there that he can try to leave the past in the past in favor of just having Cas here with him now. “Forget it. Like you said, it was a long time ago. I’m just... really, really fuckin’ happy you’re here. This whole thing might not make me wanna throw myself off a bridge now that I got you to hang out with, so don’t even think about bailing on me a second time.”

“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Cas says with a shy little smile on his face that makes butterflies explode in his stomach. Seriously fuck Cas for still being this adorable as a grown man. “Won’t your date mind, though?”

“My date?” Dean laughs. “Yeah, no. _ Sam’s _ the closest thing to a date I’ve got here, if that tells you anything.”

“Nice to hear I’m not the only pathetic single person here tonight.”

“Who’re you callin’ pathetic?” Dean asks, but when Cas looks like he just realized he put his foot in his mouth, Dean cracks up laughing and slings his arm around his shoulder just as the elevator doors open. “You and me, buddy. Always were two pathetic peas in a pod.” 

Cas’s face is an endearing shade of pink, but his smile is so big he can see a hint of gums, (which always was his tell for being genuinely happy) and for the first time since Cas left that day ten years ago, Dean feels like he’s right there with him.

He steers Cas towards the sign-in table, but before he can explain where they’re going, an ear-piercing shriek stops them in their tracks a split second before they’re both almost knocked off their feet by a blur of red slamming directly into Cas.

Cas has to move away from how Dean had his arm wrapped around him and he feels a distinct pang of regret for having that much space between them again, but it only lasts long enough for him to get a look at the gigantic smile spread on Cas’s face now as his strong arms are holding up Charlie, who’s apparently gone full koala on him.

There’s laughter coming from both of them, and god, this right here is worth every fucking balloon he had to stuff into the back of the Impala. 

Cas finally sets Charlie down on her feet and Dean watches while she punches him in the shoulder and Cas flinches. “I can’t _ believe _ you didn’t tell me you were coming!” Then she turns to Dean. “Did you know? Because if you knew and didn’t tell me, you are dead to me, Winchester.”

“He didn’t know,” Cas says for him. “I didn’t tell anybody. I wasn’t sure anybody cared to see me after not speaking to all of you for ten years.”

“I’d be mad about how stupid that is, but I’m too happy to see you for that! Frick, I don’t think I’ve screeched like that since I let Gilda get to third base for the first time,” she says with an eyebrow wiggle.

Cas lets out what looks like a resigned laugh while Dean snickers at the pair of them. 

“Glad to see you haven’t changed a bit,” Cas says.

“Us queer folk need to stick together, right Cas?” she says with an elbow and a wink.

Cas’s eyes immediately dart to Dean, and when their eyes lock, the meaning of Charlie’s words hit him like a slap to the face. Cas is queer? He must be, because he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Cas’s face is quickly heating up, and Dean really wishes he could say something reassuring but he’s too busy chewing on his bottom lip and can’t seem to stop.

“Awkward,” Charlie says in a high-pitched sing-song voice. “I totally didn’t mean to out you, dude. I thought because you have it on your Facebook profile that everybody already knew.”

“It’s okay,” Cas says quickly, looking back at her with a tight smile. “It’s not as if it’s a secret anymore. I doubt I’m going to get shoved into a locker for admitting I’m gay here.”

“Can confirm there’s no lockers those boulder shoulders can fit inside,” Charlie says with a quick flash of a smile. “Plus, you’re in good company. Me and Dean are pretty much the token town queers, right Winchester?”

“Loud and proud,” Dean confirms, not missing the sharp look of surprise he gets from Cas for that. “See what happens when we don’t talk for ten years?” he jokes.

“Man, do you two have a lot to catch up on,” Charlie agrees. “First you gotta get your name tag and sign in, though,” she says, pulling Cas towards the registration table she was manning. Dean had planned to stay where he is, but Charlie looks over her shoulder with a single eyebrow arched. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. Some control freak made me make a blood oath that every single person who showed up would sign the book and get a nametag.”

Because he had been a little crazy earlier, he smiles sheepishly and steps up next to Cas who is already writing his name in the guest book. It’s weird that even the sight of his neat cursive writing makes him feel wistful, but it does. He missed Cas a lot more than he let himself realize. Before he can think about how weird it might be, he lets his hand clap down on Cas’s shoulder and rest there again, just giving into the urge to be close to him.

When Cas’s steady hand pauses halfway through writing his last name and his head turns towards him, Dean smiles. “Just wanted to make sure you’re really here.”

“In that case, feel free to put your hands on me anytime you want.”

_ Holy shit, _was that Cas _ flirting _ with him? He doesn’t have to look directly at Charlie to feel the glee pouring off of her in their direction, and he shoots Cas one of his most winning smiles, keeping his hand exactly where it is while Cas finishes signing his name and slides the book over to him. Dean signs his name under Cas’s and pushes the book back to Charlie, who has a look in her eye that he knows means trouble.

“You know, about a dozen people have asked about you already,” Charlie says.

“Who me?” Dean asks.

“Yep. And every single one of them asked if you were married.”

“Oh, great,” he says sarcastically. “Did you lie at least?”

“Told ‘em I didn’t know, but you keep your hand on Cas like that and it might save you from a dozen almost-thirty-year-olds making their last-ditch effort to fuck the captain of the football team.”

Dean can’t exactly fault her logic. “Whaddya say, Cas? Wanna be my un-wing man?”

Cas’s eyebrows draw together as his eyes squint in confusion. “I don’t understand that reference.”

He can’t help the little snort of laughter that comes out. “Pretend to be my date so I don’t have to fend off all of these women.”

Cas’s eyes go a little wide, but he nods once. “Sure. Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” Dean says happily. “Charlie, I’ll see you inside.”

“Have fun, love birds,” she says with a wink, and both Dean and Cas are smiling when his hand stays in place on Cas’s shoulder while they walk into the banquet hall.

Oh, this is foolish. This is absolutely, horrifically stupid on his part, but Castiel still can’t wipe the smile off of his face when he walks into the banquet hall with Dean’s arm slung around his shoulders. In a different life—in his dream life—this would be reality and not just pretend. He and Dean would be together for real and he’d be ten times as proud as he feels right now knowing he has the kindest, smartest, funniest person in the room as his date. So as stupid as it is to let himself have this when it’s just for a night, he feels genuinely happy for the first time he can remember, so he goes with it anyway.

“I had to carry in twelve thousand cases of alcohol from Sam’s truck and my arms feel like noodles now, so I think it’s only fair that you and me be the ones to drink everything,” Dean says, pointing to the bar. 

Huh. Just when he thought he was already making the worst decision he could think of by going along with being Dean’s pretend date, Dean presents him with an opportunity to one-up himself.

“Well, my original plan was to get very, very drunk tonight, so why not?” Castiel responds. 

“That’s the spirit,” Dean says with a grin that makes Castiel’s heart lurch. “What’s your poison, Cas?”

If he had absolutely any doubt over whether or not he was still in love with Dean, the first time (and every time after that) he heard him call him Cas again would be enough to erase it. Dean’s the one and only person who he’s ever allowed to shorten his name, and hearing it from the lips that have haunted his dreams for more than a decade feels like coming home _ almost _ as much as their hug in the elevator.

“Beer is fine. I’m not picky.”

“Man after my own heart,” Dean says, shooting him a wink that makes his knees feel weak. Dean leans on the bar and nods at the blonde behind it. She looks familiar but he can’t quite place her. “Hey Jo, a couple of beers please.”

“Jo?” Castiel asks, his eyes bugging out his head. The tomboy he knew so well in school is in a short, tight dress covered in sequins and high heels, though her hair is still tied back in her signature ponytail. 

Jo turns towards him then and her eyes light up at the same time she smiles nice and big. “Castiel! Look at you all grown up! Man, it’s great to see you!”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot,” Castiel admits.

“See? I wasn’t the only one who was bummed when you took off,” Dean tells him. 

“We all thought you’d come back to visit but you just ghosted everybody,” Jo says, putting her hands on her hips in a challenging way.

“I... just needed some space,” Castiel says quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”

“You should be telling Dean, not me. He’s the one who went all emo when you left,” Jo says with a tiny grin.

“All worked out in the end,” Dean says, overly loud. “‘cause he’s here now _ and _ he’s posing as my date if anybody asks about me.” Dean hits her with a significant look and Jo nods with understanding. 

“Are you leaving tomorrow or sticking around?” Jo wonders, addressing him again.

“Well, Sam mentioned your mom opened a restaurant that I should try before I go.”

“Looks like you’re working your way through the Winchesters one at a time, huh?” Jo laughs.

Castiel feels his eyes widen and he looks to Dean immediately. “It wasn’t like that. Sam—Sam’s like a brother to me. Always has been.”

“Not gonna lie, that would’ve been awkward as hell so I’m real glad to hear that,” Dean chuckles. “Couple of beers, Jo. Best you’ve got.”

“Sounds like you both need ‘em,” Jo jokes, and before he can come up with a response to that, two bottles are placed in front of them. They each reach for one, and then Jo says, “Sit close by so I can come hang out between people.”

Dean nods and leads them towards a near-by table where they both sink into a couple of chairs. He’s feeling incredibly awkward now that it’s just the two of them, but Dean’s always been able to put him at ease, and he does so again now when he lifts his beer bottle and says, “To having you back where you belong.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, can’t even begin to think through the warmth blooming in his chest from those words, but he does smile and tap their bottles together before he sips from his. It goes down nice and smooth, and he glances at the label to make sure he gets the same kind next time.

“Good shit, huh?” Dean asks.

“Surprisingly good,” Castiel agrees. 

Dean smiles and leans on the table. “So fill me in on the last ten years in thirty seconds or less.”

Put on the spot, Castiel chuckles nervously. “You probably already know everything from Facebook. I live alone in Omaha and I’m an accounting technician at a small accounting firm.”

“Okay, that was definitely less than thirty seconds,” Dean laughs. “Who gets you into trouble now that you haven’t hung out with me in ten years?”

He considers lying for about two seconds, then decides to tell the truth. “Honestly? Nobody,” Castiel admits. “I’ve never really made any friends there.”

“What, people in Omaha don’t like decent guys or somethin’?”

“I have no idea. Just never met anybody I clicked with, I guess,” he shrugs. “Maybe you’ll be more interesting than me. Your life in thirty seconds or less.”

“Stereotypical high school prom king turned gym teacher. Resident bisexual who manages to disappoint everybody I date in three dates or less because I’m ‘too nice’. Only difference between me and you is I’m still friends with everybody from high school, and they’re what keeps me from turning into a hermit.”

“Perks of staying in your hometown, I guess,” Castiel says. 

“You know if you came back you could join us. Hang out with all of us just like before. You’d have friends again.”

He looks down at the beer bottle in his hands, wondering how to tell Dean that coming back home and falling right back into the way things were before has been his biggest fear all along. Still head over heels in love with his best friend who stays woefully ignorant of his feelings his entire life, watching Dean inevitably fall in love with somebody else and share all of the things he’s always wanted to share with Dean.

“We could be best friends again,” Dean adds.

“It’s not—” He stops and tries again. “I still think of you that way,” Castiel admits quietly.

“Me too, man. And if I’m pushing too hard, just let me know, but damn it’d be nice to have you back here. What’s Omaha got that we don’t have?”

“A job, for one,” Castiel replies.

“You can be an accountant anywhere,” Dean says, waving that away. “Everybody needs their taxes done. Hell, I’ll pay you to do mine right now if it means you stay.” 

He follows Dean’s gaze when it skirts to the left suddenly. Whatever is holding Dean’s attention is behind him though, and he doesn’t want to be too obvious by turning around to look. All of the sudden, Dean’s hand darts across the table to grab ahold of his.

Warmth shoots all the way up his arm and he’d swear the skin-on-skin is actually making his insides tingle, but that’s when he hears, “Dean Winchester!” from behind him.

This must be one of the women who was asking about Dean, he realizes, because Dean slides his fingers between his like it’s a totally normal thing to do and it isn’t causing Castiel’s heart to beat so hard he’s afraid it will be visible through his dress shirt. 

“Hey, Lisa,” Dean responds, and Castiel’s back instantly goes up as a familiar jealousy eats away at his stomach. Lisa Braeden. The head cheerleader, and of course, Dean’s steady girlfriend for the whole eleventh grade. “You remember Cas?” he asks her.

He finally looks up to see Lisa hasn’t gotten any less beautiful over the years. If anything, she’s even more striking now in her simple little sundress with her long dark hair all wavy and free.

“Sure,” Lisa says with a fake smile aimed in his direction.

“Took me ten years but I finally convinced him to go out with me,” Dean says.

Lisa’s smile falls instantly, and if Castiel were a better person, he wouldn’t find that anywhere near as satisfying as he does. “Good for you. Well, it was nice to see you both.”

Dean’s barely holding in his laughter as she makes her exit, and Castiel finds himself laughing along with him once she’s gone. Dean’s laughter has always been contagious. 

“She bailed a hell of a lot faster than I thought she would,” Dean says amid his laughter.

“She didn’t even try to make it look like she was just being friendly by saying hi,” Cas says, completely surprised by that. He hates to do it, but he untangles their fingers under the guise of taking another drink from his beer bottle. He doesn’t want to get _ too _ comfortable being so close to Dean when he knows it will only make everything worse when he leaves. “She heard you say we were here together and basically ran out of here!”

“Works for me. She’s still hot but she’s got a son now. Cool kid and everything, but I’m pretty sure the whole dad thing ain’t for me,” Dean tells him.

“I always thought you’d be a wonderful father.” When Dean looks like he’s surprised by that, Castiel shrugs. “What? You were great with Sam.”

Dean nods at that. “Yeah. And not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m pretty good with the kids at school, too. The guys think I’m cool because of the whole football thing, and as creepy as it is since the oldest girl there is 17...”

“The girls all think you’re hot,” Castiel finishes for him.

Dean grimaces. “It’s fucked up, but they listen to me because of it, y’know?” He looks around as if to make sure they’re not about to be interrupted, and then admits, “I haven’t told anybody, but I signed up to take some night classes. The guidance counselor is going to retire in a few years and I know it’s kinda out there, but I guess I thought...”

Dean lets the sentence trail off, but Castiel got the gist. He takes the initiative to reach out and place his hand on Dean’s wrist. “I think that’s a great idea.” Dean smiles so brightly it takes his breath away. Ten years have done absolutely nothing to take away from how gorgeous he is. “As much as I understood why you wanted to be a gym teacher given your athletic ability, I always thought you could have challenged yourself more intellectually if you wanted to. You’re really smart.”

Dean’s actually blushing. “You never were one to beat around the bush.”

He laughs quietly, but Dean’s absolutely right. “Never saw much of a point.”

“Well, I think you’re probably still the only person out there that thinks I’m smart and not just a pretty face, so thanks, I think. It’s sorta nice to hear compared to how ‘boring’ I am.”

“Boring?” Castiel echoes, completely confused by that. “Who in the world thinks you’re boring?”

“Everybody I’ve gone on a date with in the last ten years,” Dean says bitterly.

Dean is one of the most animated people he’s ever known. It makes absolutely no sense that anybody would ever call him boring. Unless... “Did you talk about your car the whole time?”

Dean snorts out a laugh. “No, I didn’t. And I’m insulted you’d even think I’m _ that guy _ on a date.”

Castiel pins him with an amused look. “I still know more about your car than I do my own.”

Dean looks interested at that. “What kinda car you drivin’ these days, anyway?”

“A Mitsubishi Lancer.” Dean folds his mouth into what he takes as a shrug. “Does that meet your standards?”

“A lot better than I thought you’d have, I gotta admit.”

Castiel shakes his head as a memory comes back to him. “You’re still holding a grudge over that old Lincoln I had, aren’t you?”

“It was a fucking boat, Cas. And an eye sore to boot.”

“It was all I could afford!” Castiel defends, the same way he had defended his car when he got it almost a dozen years ago now.

“You didn’t even need a car. I had Baby and I loved driving you around.”

“I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Dean scoffs. “Didja ever think I just liked spending time with you?”

Castiel can feel the heat hitting his cheeks, which is a dead give away that he’s about to start blushing again if he isn’t already. He runs his hand through his hair in an attempt to divert Dean’s attention away from his face, but he can feel his gaze on him anyway. “Not really,” he admits. When Dean looks like he can’t make sense of that, he continues, “You had all of your football buddies, the cool kids to hang around with. Plus whatever girl was trying to date you at the time. I always kind of thought you just stayed friends with me because of nostalgia.”

“Dude,” Dean chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “I freaking worshiped you in high school. You were the only person who treated me like an actual human being instead of some kind of rock star just because I could dodge people on the football field.”

“You did not,” Castiel disagrees, completely unable to even entertain the thought of Dean _ worshiping him _ in high school. 

“Did too,” Dean says stubbornly. “Hell, if I wasn’t so afraid of my dad kicking my ass back then, I probably would’ve asked you out.” 

Castiel is sure time has stopped. Absolutely everything has disappeared except for the shy smile on Dean’s perfect Cupid bow lips and the way his green eyes flick up nervously to check his reaction. It’s the eye contact that makes time start again, but that doesn’t mean he has any idea what the hell he’s supposed to say. Should he admit to being in love with him back then? Lie a little and say he had a hell of a crush on him? Admit he still likes Dean even now?

His mouth opens and closes several times, trying to make _ something _ come out, but the chance is stolen from him when Sam slides into the chair next to Dean. Castiel only notices then that his hand is still on Dean’s wrist and he snatches it back so fast he almost knocks his beer bottle over. With his face so hot now he could probably fry an egg on it, he does the only thing he can think to do and takes a long, long pull from his bottle.

Unfortunately for him, the first thing Sam says is, “How’s your first date going?”

He chokes on his beer, feeling the cool liquid sliding down the wrong pipe, and (if it’s even possible) he blushes even harder when Dean leans over to pound him on the back a few times. “You’re not gonna make me give you mouth-to-mouth, are ya Cas?” 

And miraculously, that clears his airway. “No,” he gasps. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

“Too bad. I’m fully trained in CPR and first aid, you know,” Dean teases. “Offer’s still on the table.”

“And I’m sure your _ offer _ has nothing to do with how Cas grew up into exactly your type,” Sam says, obviously trying to embarrass his big brother.

“Too late, Sammy. Already tried to pick him up once and he turned me down,” Dean answers, shooting Castiel a quick wink and rendering him completely speechless.

“I wouldn’t say that too loud if I were you,” Sam says before Castiel has a chance to reply. “There’s at least three women circling you right now waiting for their chance to get you alone.”

He’s curious enough to do a sweep of the room, and Sam is absolutely right. He sees several groups of women all looking their way. “Sam’s not wrong,” Castiel announces quietly.

“Must be tough to be Dean Winchester,” Sam says sarcastically.

“Easy for you to say. People just look at you because you’re freakishly tall, not because they’re undressing you with their eyes,” Dean whispers hoarsely.

“The older he gets, the more weirded out he gets by this stuff,” Sam tells Castiel. 

“Because it was high school football! Our team wasn’t even good! It was_ ten years ago _ and people still look at me like I’m some kind of god!” When Castiel can’t wipe the amusement off of his face, Dean reaches over to push him a little. “It’s weird, okay?”

“Whatever you say,” Castiel says, smiling happily at their familiar dynamic. 

“What were you guys talking about before I came over here?” Sam wonders.

“I was just telling Cas how I thought he walked on water when we were in high school,” Dean says, grinning at him fondly.

“When you were in high school?” Sam repeats incredulously. “Try last week.”

Because Dean looks embarrassed, Castiel does what any best friend would do and takes the chance to make it even worse. “Sam did tell me earlier you still talk about me all the time.”

“Sam’s gonna get his ass kicked,” Dean threatens, but there’s no heat behind it. “Guess I always kept a close eye on you on social media or whatever,” he admits. “Wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

Castiel nods, understanding the sentiment exactly. He’d like to answer Dean’s question—if he’s doing okay—but he doesn’t even really know the answer. “This might be a bit of a downer, but since you brought it up, can I ask you guys something?”

“Hit me, Cas,” Dean says at the same time Sam nods his permission.

“Are either of you actually happy?” He’s pinned with two very similar looks of confusion. “I guess I thought that once I was done with school and got a job, I’d be happy, you know? But I’ve got the job, I’ve got money in the bank, good health, a place to live. And still... nothing, really,” he admits. “Should I be looking into starting antidepressants or something, or is this being an adult?”

“No, I get what you mean,” Dean tells him. “But I mostly only get like that when I’m going through the motions of living—work, cooking, cleaning, groceries, paying the bills—without doing anything fun to make me happy.”

“That makes sense,” Sam says.

“What kinds of things do you do for fun?” Castiel wonders.

“Go hang out with Charlie, Jo, Sammy,” Dean says with a shrug. “Movies, game nights, goin’ to The Roadhouse. Hell, Charlie got me playing that Harry Potter Wizards Unite game and as lame as it is, that sucker’s had me walking around the block with my phone out every night for the last three months,” he admits with a grin. 

“Don’t you do any of that kinda stuff?” Sam asks him.

Castiel shakes his head. “No. I don’t know the last movie I saw, and I told Dean earlier I don’t really have any friends, so dinner out is just me sitting alone, and games aren’t nearly as fun to play by myself,” he says, trying to make a joke out of the pathetic situation he’s put himself in.

“You don’t have anybody you work with who you could hang out with?” Sam questions.

“I’m the youngest one there by about twenty years,” Castiel responds. “They’re nice enough people, but we don’t really have anything in common. And honestly, if it’s not at work, how else do you make friends as an adult?”

There’s silence for a few seconds while they seem to think about that, and it’s Dean that breaks it with a contemplative-sounding, “Huh. I have no idea,” he says, looking from Sam to Castiel. “I just kept my old friends from high school.”

“Me, too. I guess I made a few friends in college. You didn’t?” Sam asks Castiel.

Castiel shakes his head. “I was...” _Heartbroken. _“...extremely homesick for the first year, and I think by the time I came out of it enough to realize I wasn’t enjoying myself, everybody already had their groups of friends and I was the loner.”

“You shoulda come back,” Dean says, his eyes a stormy green full of anger and sadness. “You would’ve had friends here. You would’ve had me.” Castiel has to swallow hard, trying not to think about how different his life might have been if he stayed. “You were happy when you were here, right?”

He drops his eyes to the empty beer bottle in his hands as he tries to unload a heavy question like that in an acceptable time frame to respond. “In a lot of ways I was, yes.”

“But you still left,” Dean says flatly. “And then you hated it, and you still never came back? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I didn’t think I’d be welcome after the way I left,” Castiel lies. 

“Come on,” Sam scoffs. “We all would have tried to understand why you felt like you needed to get away. We just would have been so happy to have you back home where you belong.” Then he looks over at Dean, “Did you tell him how you were like a little lost puppy for like, a year after he left?” 

Dean shakes his head, his expression pained, and drinks down the rest of his beer. “Funnily enough, that never really came up.” This conversation really seems to have brought Dean down, and his heart actually hurts to see how upset Dean looks after he worked so hard to plan the whole reunion in the first place. He should be enjoying this, not feeling badly. “You want another drink, Cas?”

“Yes, but I’ll go with you,” Castiel offers. He feels like he needs to apologize anyway, and this would be as good an opportunity as any. “Sam would you mind holding our seats?” Dean’s already up and out of his chair though, so he doesn’t wait for a response, he just follows Dean. He catches up to him and stops him with a hand on his elbow. “Dean, wait.”

“Why’d you do it, Cas?” Dean asks, whirling around on him. “Why’d you leave like that? Why didn’t you come back if you weren’t happy?”

Being put on the spot like this has the words he knows he needs to say all jumbled together and locked up tight in some deep, dark recess of his mind. He knows he can’t explain it, but he can apologize.

“I’m sorry,” is all he manages to say. His eyes are already burning with just how sorry he really is, and he knows if he says it another hundred times it still won’t erase the memory of Dean looking at him like this. “I’m so sorry. I never thought about how it would affect you, I just—I was trying to do what was best for me at the time. It was selfish of me not to take your feelings into consideration and I’m sorry.” Dean looks heartbroken and it’s instinct when he steps in and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close to his body and trying to show him how sorry he is with this hug. Maybe if he can just hug him tightly enough Dean will understand or forgive him, and everything can just go back to the way it was before he learned he hurt the most wonderful man he’s ever known this badly. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he whispers again, meaning it with every single part of him.

Dean winds his arms around his waist and relaxes slightly in his arms. He can feel the way Dean’s breath is hot on his ear and it takes everything in him to fight back the shiver his body wants to indulge in. He’s dreamed about being close to Dean like this for so long, and now that he has it, he can’t even enjoy it because he knows Dean is hurting.

“Did—did I do something?” Dean whispers. “To make you wanna go? To not be friends anymore? Was I too—”

“No,” Castiel croaks, his heart obliterated to think Dean might have thought that all this time. “No, Dean. You were—you _ are _—wonderful in every way. I know this is cliched but it wasn’t you, it was me.”

“Really?” Dean scoffs, pushing out of his arms now. “You’re gonna use that on me? On _ me, _ Cas? No way,” he seems to decide, looking angry now. “We’ve been best friends since before we could leave our backyards. I’ve been wondering for ten years why you ghosted me all of the sudden and wouldn’t answer my texts or phone calls and you—you owe me an explanation,” he insists, pointing a menacing finger directly at him.

He’s back at the same fork in the road he was at years ago. Tell Dean and risk losing him in every capacity, or keep it to himself... and lose him anyway? It’s not as if they can really even call themselves friends anymore considering they don’t even speak to one another. What would it hurt to admit how he felt now, the real reason he left?

Before he can decide on what to say, a light flashes on the center of the dance floor and who he recognizes as his high school principal walks into the spotlight with a microphone. Dean’s mouth is pressed into a tight line, and he says, “We’re finishing this before the night is over.” Dean shows Jo two fingers and she passes him two more beers without a word, but he doesn’t miss the wary look in her eyes. Dean gives one beer to Cas (not so gently) and they walk back over to their table where Castiel avoids Sam’s eyes like the plague. 

“Welcome to the ten year anniversary of Lebanon High School’s graduating class of 2009!” Mr. Adler announces. “I know a lot of you are still mingling and trying to put names to older faces, but we thought it might be fun to start the night off with a peek at the senior year time capsule video messages you all made ten years ago.”

There’s a chorus of groans, but he himself is so far beyond that it’s not even funny, because it’s that moment when Castiel remembers exactly what he said in his video ten years ago. He never thought in a million years they would play these messages in public for everybody to see! For Dean to see! Surely they wouldn’t play what he said back then in a room full of people?

“Let’s take a look back and see what your seventeen-year-old selves wanted the world to know in 2019.”

There’s a short musical interlude, and then the faces of people he hasn’t seen for ten years start popping up on the screen by last name in alphabetical order.

He has absolutely no idea what to do.

He considers grabbing Dean by the arm and dragging him out of there to stop him from seeing what he said all those years ago, but then realizes everybody else would see what he said and tell him anyway. So then he briefly considers grabbing the laptop the video is playing on and making a break for it. He considers ripping the screen down and running like a bat out of hell. But what he ultimately ends up doing is sighing with resignation and looking at Dean. 

“If they didn’t end up cutting my video, you’re about to see exactly why I left ten years ago,” he confesses.

Dean looks surprised for about five seconds, and then he says, “You okay with that?”

“Not really,” he admits. “But it’s not like I have a choice, and even though I never realized it until now, you deserve to know that I really never meant to hurt you. Just...” He closes his eyes and takes a final breath. He opens them again and takes the chance to get one last good look at Dean. At the freckles painting his cheeks, at his forest green eyes framed with long eyelashes, at his frankly luscious lips turned down slightly at the corners, at the best friend he’ll ever have. “Promise you won’t hate me after.”

The expression on Dean’s face softens minutely. “I might be pissed, but I could never hate you, Cas.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he says quietly, and then with nothing else to do but wait, he starts working on finishing his second beer as his graduating class is shown on the big projection screen one at a time. The alphabet goes by quickly, and soon enough they’re on the Ls, and then the Ms... and Castiel finishes his beer right when his face first pops up.

He sees the way Dean’s smile grows as he takes a look at what he looked like ten years ago. Blue eyes way too big for his face, hair everywhere, his stupid uniform shirt a size too big for him and making him look so much scrawnier than he was. And then he starts talking.

He only needs to hear the first sentence to know it’s been edited.

“I’m in love. I think I’ve been in love my whole life.” He watches as Dean turns sharply towards him for a split second, but then his eyes dart back to the screen just in time to see a soft little smile on his younger face. “I’m probably only one of a hundred people in our graduating class who think they love him, but none of the others know him like I do. They don’t know how he got more excited after opening the hat, scarf, and mitts I knit him this year for Christmas than he did over the new gaming system his parents bought him.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean’s pretty sure his heart has stopped beating altogether. As much as Cas didn’t technically say his name in this video, there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind that Cas is talking about him. Who the fuck else would Cas have knit that stuff for but him? And why the hell didn’t Cas tell him if he was into him so long ago? They were _ so close, _ closer than close. Cas could have told him anything! His whirling thoughts are cut off by 17-year-old Cas talking in the video again.

“They don’t know that for how often he talks about his little brother being the brightest kid he’s ever known, he’s every bit as smart. I know people will see this and think we’re only kids. But I’m telling you, wherever I am in my life in ten, twenty, even thirty years from now, I’ll still be in love. I might just be a kid, but I’m old enough to know love like this doesn’t come more than once in a lifetime. I’ll probably never get the courage to tell him face-to-face, but I had to say it just this once. I’m gay, and I’m in love.”

That’s it. That’s _ it. _ He doesn’t give a flying fuck who’s watching them, who knows, or how far Sam’s eyes are currently bugging out of his head, he’s not letting one more second go by without an explanation from Cas. 

He grabs a bewildered, almost in tears Cas by the hand, and before Cas can even begin to protest Dean’s dragging him out of the room and into the lobby. Cas goes willingly, and as soon as they get out of the room, Dean rounds a corner where he knows they won’t be seen by prying eyes. That’s when his temper gets the best of him—how fucking _ dare _Cas keep something like this from him?—and he pushes Cas up against the wall by his stupidly wide shoulders, which is when he realizes Cas’s face is scrunched up like he thinks he’s gonna get a punch in the face.

He loosens his hold on him, but his voice still comes out hard when he asks, “You were in love with me?” Cas doesn’t say anything, just stands there with his eyes screwed shut, breathing hard. “You loved me and that’s why—that’s why you fucking _ left?” _

“Dean—I—”

“Yes or no, Cas.” Cas still doesn’t say a damn word, and it’s _ killing him. _ He has to know. “Yes or no?” he repeats, his voice softer this time, almost a plea.

His heart is beating so hard now he wonders briefly if it’s going to beat right out of his chest. But then absolutely everything stops because Cas takes a deep, shuddering breath, and he nods his head once on the exhale, and just like that, his entire world changes.

No fucking wonder Cas left. He was in love with who he thought was his straight best friend, all because Dean had been too afraid of his dad to even admit to his best friend in the whole world that he was at least as attracted to guys as he was girls. Cas never thought he had a chance, and so obviously to try to get some space and make things easier on himself, he bailed. Cas must’ve cut ties with him to try to get over him or something, and he never told him why because he felt like he couldn’t. 

What a fucking moron.

“You stupid, selfish, son of a bitch,” Dean says breathlessly. And finally, Cas opens his eyes just in time to see the hopeful smile that’s spreading on his face as the potential here finally sets in. “Was the rest—that part about still loving me ten years from now? Were you right?”

Cas is watching him so carefully. Those blue eyes of his are darting from Dean’s eyes to his mouth and then back up again, obviously trying to figure out how he feels about all of this. “M-maybe,” Cas whispers, and that is more than enough of a green light for him. He’s been trying not to think about how this might feel for ten fucking years, and he’s not waiting another second if he doesn’t have to.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace, Cas, ‘cause I’m about to kiss the ever loving shit outta you.”

Cas’s lips part but when no sound escapes him, Dean moves in. The hands that were still on Cas’s shoulders slip behind his neck, and as his fingers slide into Cas’s thick, soft hair, he presses his lips to Cas’s for the first time. His eyes close as their lips move in fragments, sliding and slotting together until they hit the sweet spot where they line up just right, and then he’s lost. He’s lost in the contrast between the familiarity he feels being close to Cas like this and the brand-new, earth-shattering awareness that he might’ve been in love with his best friend ten years ago and never figured it out until right now.

No fucking wonder he was so torn up when Cas left. No wonder he sent Cas so many texts and emails, called him so many times. No wonder he constantly refreshed Cas’s Facebook feed for any hint of how he was doing for so long. No wonder he’s never hit it off with anybody else the way he did with Cas. He was in fucking love with him! 

He has no idea how he didn’t realize it sooner, but it’s clear as day now, because this kiss and the way his mouth is already opening for Cas’s surprisingly insistent tongue is unlike any first kiss he’s ever had. This is _ everything. _ Kissing Cas feels like coming home, tastes like cinnamon candy, and smells like his childhood all wrapped up in one mind-melting lip lock that he’s already feeling himself growing addicted to. He melts, lets Cas take control of the kiss and makes a pathetic little sound when Cas starts to possess his mouth with bold swipes of his tongue interspersed with tiny flicks of the tip that makes him feel weak in the goddamn knees.

He has to tear his mouth away before he passes out from the combination of lack of oxygen and the dizzying sensation of all of the blood in his body racing down between his legs, but another sound is punched out of him when Cas seals his lips to the side of Dean’s neck instead. “Jesus, Cas,” he wheezes, his hand tangling more firmly into Cas’s hair while his knees actually sag with the intensity of the suction on his pulse point. “Fuck.” He adjusts so that he gets his thigh between Cas’s legs, and _ shit, _ he is definitely not the only one starting to get hard here. “Waitwaitwait,” he breathes, wrenching his upper body away from Cas’s burning mouth.

He pulls back enough so that he can get a look at Cas’s face, and son of a bitch, he looks every bit as wrecked as Dean feels. His lips are shiny with their combined spit, his eyes are dark and sexy as fuck, and his cheekbones are painted an incredibly appealing shade of pink, making him wonder just how far down that flush goes, if his neck and chest are already rosy from arousal, too. 

“Sorry,” Cas says sheepishly, and holy fuck, listen to how rough his voice is now. “I’ve been thinking about that for a really long time.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Dean asks, softly now, trying to force his brain to think about anything other than the temptation of rutting his half-hard dick against the thick thigh between his. 

Cas huffs out a single breath, rolling his eyes and then keeping them aimed over Dean’s shoulder as he speaks. “I thought you were straight, and even if you weren’t, you were so far out of my league it was like I was on another planet.”

“You’re such an idiot, Cas,” Dean says through a quiet laugh. “I had the biggest fucking crush on you. Never really let myself think about it ‘cause my dad was so loud about wanting me to be a ladies man, but yeah. I was totally into you.”

Cas lowers his gaze to find his again, and there’s a tiny smile on his lips when he says, “I’m getting that now.”

“What do ya say we make this a real date then, huh?” Dean asks.

“A real date?” Cas echoes.

Dean nods. “Yeah. You liked me, I liked you. Now we’re finally back in the same city and I wanna get to know you again... I just wanna do it knowing I can kiss you whenever I want to.”

“I-I want to. I really want to. But I still don’t live here.”

“So what?” Dean responds. “You’re like, three hours away? That’s nothing. Especially since you’re gonna answer your phone when I call or text now, right?” Cas’s lips quirk at that and he knows he’s got him. “I’m not asking to marry you, Cas. I’m just asking for a date.”

“How could I ever say no to _ Dean Winchester?” _ Cas asks, widening his eyes and looking up at him like he’s some kind of celebrity.

“Don’t think just because I wanna kiss you sometimes doesn’t mean I won’t still kick your ass,” Dean jokes.

“Is this your typical first date behavior? Because I might be understanding why you didn’t get many call backs now.” Because he’s right there and he knows it’s a ticklish spot for him, he pokes Cas in the ribs, and he’s rewarded with a squawk and an attempt to buck him off that _ almost _ works. It does have him relenting, though. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nice,” Cas laughs. 

“Damn it’s good to hear you laugh,” Dean admits, sobering the mood between them instantly. 

“It’s good to laugh again,” Cas replies, and Dean decides then and there that he’s going to do whatever he has to do to make Cas laugh enough tonight that it makes up for the last ten years when he should have been laughing and wasn’t. 

“Think Sammy drank my beer by now?” he jokes, and just like he hoped, a small huff of laughter escapes Cas.

“Only one way to find out.”

Dean lifts his hand, holding up one finger. “Just one more without an audience,” he bargains, and then he leans in a second time to slot their lips together. Neither of them deepen it this time, but it’s no less life-changing than the first one. Is there anything better than the excitement and uniqueness of learning exactly the way a new partner likes to be kissed? He sure as fuck never would’ve pegged Cas as the type to take, to go for exactly what he wants when it comes to kissing, but that seems to be what he’s getting from him, and he’s so fucking here for it. 

In fact, despite the fact that neither of them uses their tongues, this kiss drags on and on. Their lips pull apart and come back together so many times at so many different angles that he’s sure there isn’t a millimeter of those plush pink lips of Cas’s that he hasn’t had his own melded to, and still, he’s nowhere close to getting his fill. He wants to know exactly what takes Cas’s breath away, what makes him push back harder, take more. He wants to know how it feels to kiss Cas with both hands on his face, with his hands on his bare back, with his hands pinned up over his head. He wants to know everything.

_ Shit. _

This is so backwards. He shouldn’t be realizing that he might’ve kinda sorta been in love with Cas for the last ten years at the same time he realizes he never wants to let him go again. Not after their second kiss. This is insane, but it’s the most comfortable he’s ever felt with a partner, and he knows that even as crazy as it is, it’s a hundred times more _ right. _With any luck, he can show Cas the time of his life tonight, then he can work on convincing Cas to move back where he belongs so they can try having this every day and not just tonight. 

When their lips break apart for good, Dean rests his forehead against Cas’s. Both of their mouths are hanging open, he can feel Cas’s breath ghosting over his lips, taste the cinnamon on his tongue, and see the rising and falling of his shoulders.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay right here for the rest of the night?” Cas asks, and Dean chuckles quietly.

He still has a grin on his face when he says, “We do have some teenage make out sessions to make up for.” Desire curls in his stomach when Cas’s fingers hook into his belt loops to align their hips until they’re crotch to crotch, and yeah, the bulge currently pressing up against his own heavy cock is all the proof he needs to know Cas is every bit as into this as he is. He licks his lips and admits, “That inner voice in my head telling me to take this slow is shutting up real fast.”

“I always thought you were a smart man,” Cas whispers, tilting his chin up to press their lips together once more. 

Dean gives in for five seconds—okay ten—of Cas nipping and teasing at his lips with his tongue before he wrenches away and takes a step back, knowing if he gives into kissing Cas hard and dirty the way he’s dying to right now he’s never gonna be able to slow it down a second time. He immediately glances down to see how obvious his growing erection currently is, and figuring he can pass with it, he slides his fingers between Cas’s and tugs him away from the wall. 

“You made me forget I’m technically working at this thing,” he says with a laugh. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Winchester,” Cas replies, smiling like he’s fucking proud of himself.

Dean points his finger at him. _ “You _ are gonna get me in trouble.”

“You’re Dean Winchester. You’ll get away with it,” Cas jokes, and it’s only funny because it’s true. 

“You’re gonna ride my ass all night for that, aren’t you?”

The second the words are out of his mouth he hears exactly how they sound, and he’s not the least bit surprised when Cas responds with a sly smile and, “A guy can dream anyway.” But he _ is _ surprised by how his dick damn near leaps in anticipation. It hasn’t been _ that _ long since he got laid, but apparently his dick is just as eager as the rest of him. 

Dean is shaking his head as he leads Cas back to the table they abandoned where Sam is still waiting for them. “Let’s see you talk like that in front of my little brother.”

“Talk like what in front of me?” Sam asks as he and Cas settle back into their seats. Dean scoots his seat closer to Cas’s than where it was, mainly so he can give into the urge to touch him whenever it comes up. 

“Me and Cas cleared the air outside and it turns out he’s got a filthy mouth on him.”

Cas lowers his head and chuckles heartily. “Your brother’s a liar,” he says to Sam. 

“But a hell of a kisser, right, Cas?” Dean prods, hoping to see another reappearance of the blush he loves so much.

“Kisser?” Sam echoes, looking between them. “Wait—did you just make out in the hallway or something?”

“Pretty much,” Dean admits. 

Cas is too busy looking at his empty beer bottle to comment, but Sam says, “Can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”

“Well apparently you were the only one,” Dean says easily. “You need another beer, Cas?”

“Yeah. I’ll get it though. Do you want another one, too?”

“Sure, why not.” Then he turns in his seat and watches as Cas walks away, making sure to check out how his ass fills out those black jeans he’s wearing. He makes a face of approval to his back side and then turns back to Sam, who’s looking at him with a mix of amusement and disgust.

“Really?”

Dean shrugs. “Pretty sure if I’m allowed to make out with him I can check out his ass,” he says before taking a swig from his beer.

“You’re not gonna have a one night stand with him, are you?” Sam asks, grimacing. “It’s Castiel. It’d be weird for everybody if you guys let that ruin your friendship.”

“Not gonna happen,” Dean answers. “I _ am _ gonna woo the pants off of him—hopefully literally—and then convince him to move back here to be with me, though.”

“Move back to be with you?” Sam repeats. “You haven’t talked to him in ten years!”

“Doesn’t matter. Cas is Cas.”

Sam’s lips are pressed tightly together, telling him how he isn’t so sure about this before he even opens his mouth. Sure enough, he says, “Just be careful. If you really want him to come back you don’t wanna screw it up before you even get started.”

“He’ll come back,” Dean says, absolutely sure of himself. “I can make him happy.”

Sam breathes out an amused sounding laugh. “You know you sound crazy right now, right?”

Once again, all Dean does is shrug. He might’ve only been in the company of Cas for an hour in the last ten years, but some things don’t change, and obviously the connection they’ve always had is one of them. He gets why Sam thinks he’s crazy, and that’s okay. If he has as much luck as he’s hoping to have with Cas tonight, he’ll be explaining how crazy he is for years to come. Might as well start now. 

“You know better than anybody how fucked up I was when he left the first time. How it took me for fucking ever to get over it.” Sam nods, because they both know he’s right. “It wasn’t just best friend shit that was bringing me down. I was heartbroken, I was just too messed up ‘cause of dad to see it at the time.”

“As much as I hate to encourage how insane you’re being, that actually makes sense. From what I remember, you were like a totally different guy for at least a year after he left. Nothing could cheer you up”

Dean nods and takes another drink, not wanting to think about the bad stuff too much now that there’s a real chance for some good. Just then, Sam says, “Incoming,” under his breath.

He doesn’t even have a chance to react before he hears a familiar voice say, “Dean Winchester?”

He looks over his shoulder only to see Rhonda Hurley, and _ damn _ does she look good in some kind of one piece jumpsuit thing and her hair cropped short. She was the first girl he’d been with who was more than willing to be with a bisexual man, and actually, the first person who fingered him and introduced him to the joys of his prostate (among other things).

“Hey, Hurley,” he says with a genuine smile. 

“Long time no see,” she says, giving him a blatant up and down.

“You moved outta town,” he replies. “Left a broken shell of a man behind.”

She laughs, low and husky (reminding him of just how good she sounded in bed) because they both know it was nothing but sex. “Lucky for you I’m here for the night.”

“Y’know, we had some good times together and that mighta worked yesterday,” he admits. “But I’m kinda here with somebody now.”

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at that. “Anybody I know?”

“Here comes the handsome devil now,” he says as he notices Cas making his way back towards them with two beers in hand. 

Rhonda turns to look at who Dean’s talking about, and he’s grinning when he sees the amusement written all over her face when she turns back to him. “There’s a shocker,” she says sarcastically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, still smiling broadly.

“Anybody with eyes could see how he looked at you in high school,” she says, eyeing Cas as he slides a beer in front of Dean. “And apparently that hasn’t changed.”

Dean reaches out to grab Cas’s hand to make sure he knows there isn’t anything untoward going on here. “Cas, you remember Rhonda Hurley?” he asks.

“Not really, sorry. It’s nice to meet you though,” Cas offers.

“You too, blue eyes. And listen, anytime you guys want a third, I’d better be the first one you call,” she says with a sexy smile.

Dean can do nothing but stare slack jawed as she walks away, and he only comes back to himself when he feels Sam kick him under the table. He looks over at him, and watches Sam scrunch his nose before he says, “I can’t believe I just had to listen to my brother and Castiel get propositioned for a threesome.”

“This is definitely the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me on a date,” Cas comments.

“Aren’t you freaked out?” Sam asks him.

“I might have been if Dean didn’t introduce me or hold my hand to try to make me feel more comfortable,” Cas replies. “And honestly, if that’s the kind of thing Dean’s interested in it would be good to know now so I can fake an illness and disappear to my hotel room for the night.”

Dean snorts with laughter. “Dude, me turning down that kinda thing is exactly what earned me my ‘boring’ reputation. I’m too wholesome to be a small town football hero.”

“Maybe we should have a repeat performance of what happened in the hallway over by the bar,” Cas offers, smirking. “That should help with erasing the wholesome label.”

Dean turns to Sam. “Toldja. Filthy mouth on him.”

Sam just shrugs, smiling all the while. “Sounds like you’re perfect for each other to me.” Dean and Cas both look at each other at the same time, and when their eyes catch, neither one of them seems to be able to look away. “On that optimistic note, I’m gonna go hang out with Charlie and let you two... do whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

“See ya later, Sammy,” Dean says, barely even sparing him a glance as he leaves the table. “Finally got you all to myself,” he teases, being a little sappy and bringing Cas’s hand up to his mouth for a quick peck on the back of it. Cas blushes absolutely beautifully, and he makes a mental note that Cas likes the sappy shit. 

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re interrupted again. You’re a hot commodity after all.”

“You’re one to talk,” Dean scoffs. “You just about got knocked over by Charlie, and I’m sure Sam woulda hugged the shit outta you when he first saw you.”

“That’s true,” Cas nods. “He did.”

“Y’know, I wouldn’t be the only one who’d be happy to see more of you after tonight.” Cas is smiling but he rolls his eyes playfully. “I’m just putting it out there.”

“I can’t just uproot my whole life because we kissed,” Cas says.

While he knows logically that’s true, that’s not what he wants to hear. “I was on you to come back before that. Hell, even if we never kiss again—which would be a damn shame, by the way—I’d still want you to come back.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Cas says sarcastically.

Thing is though, Dean’s not joking. “Listen. Straight up, I hate thinkin’ of you being unhappy in Omaha,” Dean admits. “Do you seriously have no friends where you live? Nobody you can go get drinks with or watch a football game or something?”

Cas shakes his head. “There’s nobody, not that I’ve ever really been into sports anyway,” he adds.

“What? You love football.”

“No, I don’t,” Cas insists.

What the hell kind of bullshit is this? 

“You came to every practice and every game, even the away ones.”

“Well,” Cas says, suddenly very interested in the bottle in his hands. “Let’s just say that had more to do with who was playing than what was being played.”

Dean’s heart swells as that sinks in. “You’re tellin’ me you sat through the rain, the cold, and the hours of travelling, and you never even liked football?”

“I liked watching you play.” He lifts those blue eyes up to Dean’s, and the depth of affection inside of them is almost staggering. “You always looked so happy and were so alive after a game, even if you didn’t win. I never saw you like that any other time. It was worth everything else.”

Dean huffs sadly, breaking eye contact as he sits with how it feels to hear Cas say that at the same time his mind works to try to supply the next thing to say. “You know, I think the last time I felt like that was when I saw you in the elevator,” Dean admits. “And before that, well, probably when I paid for my night classes. But before _that?_ I have no idea,” he says sadly.

“If it helps at all, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like that.”

That’s just not gonna fly. Everybody deserves to find something that makes them come alive, Cas more than anybody. “Guess that’s the first thing we gotta do after tonight then,” Dean tells him. “Find something that makes you come alive.”

Cas shakes his head. “I know you said you have a reputation for being boring, but honestly, I think I’m as boring as it gets. Even my wildest dreams don’t have a hint of wild in them.”

“Tell me,” Dean urges him. “What kind of wild things do you dream about, Cas?”

Cas seems to debate for a few seconds, then asks, “Promise you won’t use this against me later?”

“Hell no,” Dean says, getting a burst of laughter from Cas for that. Was he always this gorgeous when he laughed?

“I guess I wouldn’t have believed you if you said yes,” Cas says through his laughter. Then he takes a deep breath, and leans in like he’s about to confess something terrible. “I want to write a book.”

“Like, a Fifty Shades of Grey thing?” Dean deadpans.

Cas laughs again, warming his insides with the laugh lines around his eyes. “No. I kind of have this plot bunny in my head about a witch hunter who falls in love with a witch without knowing what he is.”

“Fantasy romance? Could be cool. Have you started writing it yet?”

Cas shakes his head. “I have it all planned out in my head but I’m too afraid of opening a blank word document to even try to write it.”

“Why?” Dean wonders, genuinely curious. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“What if I’m terrible?” Cas asks, sounding horrified by the very thought.

“What if you’re not?” Dean counters. “Seriously, back to the Fifty Shades of Grey thing. If that can get published and become a best seller, you’ve totally got a chance. Besides, you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“You’re entirely too persuasive for your own good, you know.”

“Was kinda counting on it,” Dean admits with a smile. “Tell me something else.”

Cas runs his hands through his hair, absentmindedly making Dean think about how he wishes he was doing it for him. “I suppose this one’s a little wild, and I already know I’ll never do it...”

“I’m literally on the edge of my seat,” Dean says, leaning in a little more.

Cas looks damn near sheepish. His head is tilted down, he flicks his big blue eyes up through his dark eyelashes, and Dean’s heart fucking _ thuds _ in his chest right before Cas says, “I want to get a tattoo.”

“You badass,” Dean teases, slightly more breathless than the conversation calls for. “What do you want to get?”

“Wings,” Cas says immediately, letting him know exactly how much he’s thought about this. “Maybe on my lower back. Get a tramp stamp,” he says with a smile.

Dean gets a brief mental image of black wings on Cas’s lower back, glistening with sweat as the muscles in his back twist and stretch while Dean pounds into him from behind, and he’s not even lying when he says, “That’s fuckin’ hot, Cas.”

“Shut up,” Cas laughs, obviously assuming he’s joking.

Dean just raises his eyebrows. “If you just saw the mental image I had, you’d get it, believe me.”

“Maybe you’ll share it with me sometime.”

“Believe me, I start talkin’ like that and _ boring’s _ gonna go flying right out the window when you wind up in my lap right here, right now,” Dean teases. 

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Cas shoots back, and fuck him for that smart mouth of his.

“Shit,” Dean says, shaking his head in disbelief as heat plows into him. “I had no idea you’d be like this.”

“Like what?” 

“All mouthy and flirty and... assertive, you know? You started off tonight so nervous and looking at your feet, then it’s like you kissed me—”

“And you basically turned to putty in my hands,” Cas cuts him off. He shrugs a single shoulder. “That and a couple of beers go a long way to making a man feel powerful.”

“Sammy might be right about us,” Dean admits, aiming his most smoldering look at Cas. “Because if you ask me, handing over the reins to somebody I trust is what makes me feel powerful.”

Cas’s eyes are damn near liquid with how hot they are now, and they maintain some very heated eye contact for an undetermined amount of time before Cas says, “I’m gonna need another drink.” 

He pushes himself away from the table looking deliciously flushed and bothered, and Dean already knows he wouldn’t want him any other way.

Castiel feels like he’s walking with his head in the clouds. He had absolutely no intention of revealing his true feelings to Dean, and now they’ve not only come out, but seem to be reciprocated? He still can’t fully wrap his head around it, but the passionate kisses they shared in the hallway certainly left a vivid enough impression in his mind that he knows he didn’t imagine it.

Dean kissed him.

Dean found out that he was in love with him in high school and his response had been to kiss him.

Never in a million years did he think that would be his reaction, but then again, he was convinced that Dean was straight. As he stands in the short line waiting for his turn to get more beer, he wonders briefly if knowing that Dean is sometimes attracted to men would have changed anything? He immediately dismisses the thought, knowing that he never would have had the courage to admit his feelings if he wasn’t forced into it. 

One thing’s for sure: his 17-year-old self never would have guessed how handy that video confession would be ten years later.

Of course, kissing Dean, being with Dean, and agreeing to this one date with Dean doesn’t come without its problems. Now he can’t stop wanting to kiss him again, touch him again, get to know him all over again and in ways he never has before. Some things haven’t changed, which is easy to see. Like the easy affection between Dean and Sam, the strong ties Dean still has to his friends, his ‘wholesome’ values, even his sense of humor. Dean also doesn’t seem to stray from going after what he wants, which is something he’s always admired about him and envied more than a little. Unfortunately, what Dean wants right now seems to be him moving back here.

It had been harder than it should have been to say no the first time he brought it up, and twice as hard after they kissed, but logically, he knows he has to keep a level head here. He can’t just uproot his entire life because Dean asked him to... right? Would it be nice to have friends again? To enjoy the feeling of community he’d had here? To eat a meal once in a while in the company of somebody else? More than he can ever say. But money doesn’t grow on trees, and despite what Dean said about everybody needing an accountant, most people (especially people in such a small town) already have one. And yes, he has a decent amount of savings and vacation time coming out of his ears to cash in, but he can’t just quit his job with no other job to go to.

That would be irresponsible and completely crazy, no matter how tempting it is.

For heaven’s sake, he doesn’t even know if Dean is interested in being with him after tonight. Dean himself had said that he wasn’t asking to marry him, just for a date. So for all he knows, this could be it. His one and only date with the one and only man he’s ever loved. And isn’t that a depressing thought? He’s only been on a handful of dates in his life, and although he had given into the temptation to have sex for the sake of having it when it became clear that was an option, he’s already enjoyed kissing Dean more than he enjoyed his limited sexual encounters.

He tries to steer his mind out of the gutter (which is difficult considering the conversation he and Dean were having before he walked over here), reminding himself that thinking that way isn’t going to help anything. It’s only going to make him so nervous that he makes a fool out of himself, or so forward that he scares Dean away or causes Dean to think all he’s interested in is sex. Thankfully, that’s when the couple in front of him gets their drinks, and Jo offers him a distraction for his wayward thoughts when she motions for him to come forward with a friendly smile on her face.

“Back for more, huh?” she asks.

“Yes. Two more, please.”

“You and Dean look like you’re having a good time,” she comments as she turns to retrieve two more bottles for him. 

“We are. Well, I am,” he corrects. “I think Dean is, too.”

“Oh believe me, he is,” she confirms. “I haven’t seen him this happy in years.” Castiel can only smile at that. “You two have been the hot conversation topic of the night.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised to hear that.

“Oh yeah,” she laughs, twirling her long blonde ponytail around her fingers. “There was a whole gaggle of ex-cheerleaders over here complaining about you ruining their last chance to sleep with the captain of the football team.”

He’s no less surprised after hearing her explain that. “Well, the next time one of them is glaring daggers at me, just let it slip that I’m going back home tomorrow.”

_ “After _ you come check out The Roadhouse, right?” she asks, placing a hand on her hip.

“This is what, four beers for me?” he wonders aloud. She confirms with a nod of her head, and he says, “Then at this rate, I won’t be awake until noon, so you can guarantee I’ll stop by for a burger before I head back home.”

“This is your home.”

Castiel sighs, but honestly, every time somebody here has said something like this he’s felt a surge of warmth inside of him. “Hey, Jo? I know we don’t have a lot of time.” He glances over his shoulder to the few people waiting behind him. “But I’m sorry I left like I did. I should’ve told you guys, or at least kept in touch, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

She nods her acceptance. “I get it. I mean, after the video, I think everybody does, you know?” 

He winces, having forgotten about everybody else seeing his confession along with Dean. “Right,” he says, embarrassed now. “Even still. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted. But I’m not gonna be this nice if you break his heart a second time,” she warns him.

“Understood. I’ll, uh, probably see you later,” he says, holding up the beer bottles in explanation.

“You better,” she laughs, and then he’s walking away and back to Dean with a small smile on his face. As he approaches the table Dean’s sitting at (miraculously still alone) he goes to walk around Dean to get to his seat, but Dean stops him with a hand on his hip. 

It’s such an intimate touch—his palm pressed flush to his hip bone—that it stops him in his tracks. That must have been what Dean was going for, because the next thing he knows, he drawls, “Heyya, Cas.” He’s distracted by the way Dean’s eyes are lit up flirtatiously, and then he’s being reeled in by his tie until their lips come together.

_ Oh. _

This is no less heart-stopping than their previous two kisses have been, and he loses the first entire second trying to process the magnitude of the _ spark _ he feels, and then he’s using his few remaining brain cells to place the beer bottles on the table and winding his arms around Dean’s neck. Because Dean’s sitting down, he uses the leverage he has to prod Dean’s mouth open with his, and _ jesus, _ will he ever get used to how Dean just _ gives? _ It renders him completely breathless and he’s forced to inhale a deep breath through his nose, accidentally getting hit with a long pull of Dean’s surprisingly citrusy scent. 

There’s something incredibly sexy about a man as tall, athletic, and muscular as Dean smelling feminine and fruity the way he does, and it makes arousal tighten in his stomach like a fist.

Dean’s thumb is pressing more firmly into his hip bone, and because his hands are free, he lets one travel from the back of Dean’s neck to his jaw where hums his pleasure at the warmth of Dean’s skin beneath his palm. 

Because he knows exactly how easy it would be to get carried away in the middle of the ballroom, he forces himself to start pulling away, first withdrawing his tongue and then closing his lips a little bit more with each subsequent kiss. Dean lets loose a high-pitched, needy little sound that has him questioning his choice and testing his control, but their lips part entirely and then they’re gazing at each other with matching bewildered looks on their faces.

Dean’s lips are shiny _ (because of him!) _ and his thumb traces the corner of Dean’s mouth, sending more heat through his veins now that he’s able to stare unabashedly at the sinful sight of Dean’s lips.

“We’re damn good at that,” Dean comments.

Castiel nods his head in a dazed agreement. “I would have to agree.”

“Shoulda done it ten years ago,” Dean says, sliding a beer back across the table to Castiel’s seat. He takes that invitation and continues around Dean to sit down. “Probably wouldn’t have been that good back then though.”

“I hadn’t even had my first kiss ten years ago,” Castiel admits. 

Dean smiles through a laugh. “When was it?”

“The summer after first year,” Castiel tells him. “One of the very few parties I dragged myself to during my college years.”

“And it was a guy?” Dean prompts.

“Yes. His name was Brad. I have no idea how he figured out I was gay, but he certainly made it easy on me by taking the guesswork out of it on his end.”

“How was it?” Dean wonders.

Castiel blows out a breath while he considers how to answer that question. “I’m pretty sure I blacked out the first few seconds when I was really, really bad at it for my own self-preservation,” he says with a sideways smile. “But after that it was good. It’s a good memory.”

“What happened after _ Brad _ kissed you?” Dean asks, saying his name like it puts a bad taste in his mouth. “Didja get his number?”

Castiel can already feel his face growing hot. “It’s not important. It was a long time ago.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean prods. “Don’t leave me hanging now! You’re freaking blushing so it’s gotta be good.”

Castiel sighs, knowing Dean well enough to know he’s not going to let this go if he doesn’t tell him. “Remember, I was really, really drunk...” Castiel starts, and Dean interrupts him by tipping his head back and _ cackling. _

“You got laid for the first time at a frat party, didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t!” Castiel insists. When Dean just keeps looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he gives up and quietly admits. “But I did get a handjob in the upstairs bathroom.”

“You dog!” Dean laughs. “I never in a million years would’ve guessed you would do something like that.”

“Did I mention I was very, very drunk?” he says sheepishly.

“Yeah, but I’ve seen you drunk. Remember that time Jo stole a bottle of liquor from Ellen and Bobby and we all got smashed? I was never offered any bathroom handjobs,” Dean teases.

“Yes, well, if you remember that night as well as I do, you’ll know I kept my distance from you, and there was a good reason for that.”

Dean scoots his chair a little bit closer, looking interested now. “What’d you think would happen if you didn’t?”

Castiel rolls his eyes playfully. “Obviously that I would drunkenly blurt out ‘I love you’ or ‘you’re so hot,’” he says, only half serious.

Dean’s sudden smile is full-watt and more charming than anybody should be allowed to be. “You think I’m hot, Cas?”

Put on the spot, he flicks his eyes away to try to find a moment of composure, but comes up blank. “I think you’d struggle to find somebody who doesn’t.”

“Don’t really care about anybody else right now though, I asked about you.”

Trying to turn the tables on him, he asks, “Well, do you think _ I’m _ hot?”

Dean’s smile turns from charming to predatory in an instant. “I think you’re hot as fuck.”

“You do not,” Castiel dismisses, not even entertaining the idea of Dean of all people thinking he’s attractive.

“Do too!” Dean argues childishly. “Cute as hell sometimes, too. Especially when you smile real big.”

Castiel runs his hand through his hair nervously, messing up his perpetual bedhead even more. “Stop flirting with me.”

“Thought we were on a date,” Dean reminds him, and Castiel jolts slightly when he feels what must be Dean’s foot nudge his under the table. “Flirting is kinda a given, and you sure didn’t have a problem with talking about riding my ass.”

Because he knows next to nothing about flirting and still can’t really believe he said that, he asks, “Do you play footsies with all of your dates under the table?”

“I haven’t been on a date with somebody I clicked with like this in for fucking ever,” Dean tells him. “Haven’t had a chance to try it out.”

“Well, for your next date, you should know it’s remarkably effective considering how grossed out I feel about feet.”

Dean chuckles heartily. “I kinda wish you didn’t already know about all my firsts so we could go back and forth to keep the conversation going.”

“I don’t know all of them,” Castiel says.

“You were literally in the next room when I had my first kiss, and I already told you all about my first time with Lisa in the back seat of my car,” Dean says with a grin, probably because of the memory.

Also thinking of that specific memory has him remembering how crushing it had been at the time to listen to Dean go on and on about being with somebody who wasn’t him when he was so helplessly in love with him. Not surprisingly, it pulls a much different reaction out of him now than it does Dean. “I remember.”

He’s too busy drowning the memory with a few mouthfuls of his beer to see Dean’s reaction, but Dean’s hand covering his is enough to let him know he gets it. “You know I didn’t know,” Dean reminds him quietly. “I never would’ve gone on and on about it if I did.”

“I know,” Castiel replies, his voice also quiet. “That was a long time ago, anyway,” he says, trying to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach. “What I was going to say is that I don’t know the first time you kissed a man, were with a man, or even realized you were into men.”

“Oh,” Dean says, dragging out the sound with a quiet laugh. “Well, I knew the guy thing since I started watching porn, but my dad... well, he didn’t mince words about what he thought about _ those _ kinds of guys, so it wasn’t until he died that I started kinda exploring the option.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when your dad passed,” Castiel says now that it’s come up.

“Not your fault. It was a shock with the accident and everything, so it all happened really fast. There’s no way you could’ve been here fast enough.”

“I wanted to be.”

“I know.” There’s a quiet moment between them then, but Dean takes a drink and then bursts out with a dramatic, “Anyway!” to lighten the mood again. “My first kiss and first time were both thanks to Charlie, indirectly. She’s the one who dragged me to the city to go to my first gay bar, and honestly, I was barely—” He stops abruptly. “This doesn’t bother you to hear about like the Lisa thing, does it?”

“No. I’m not sure why it’s different, but it doesn’t bother me.” He’s not being entirely truthful though, because he knows the difference lies in the fact that he wasn’t there then. Dean didn’t have the option to choose him and chose somebody else instead like he did with Lisa. 

“Okay, cool. So, yeah, I was approached by all kinds of guys pretty much right off the bat. The big bear-like guys, the ones covered in body glitter wearing lingerie, and I was just starting to think it was the wrong place for me when Charlie pushed me into somebody. I was about to rip her head off when I noticed it was a normal looking guy. He had a ball cap on in a gay bar, and we started dancing and he kissed me.” He takes a drink from his bottle, then says, “I kinda freaked out after, honestly. Hid from him, got super, super drunk and whined to Charlie about how I was secretly hoping I wouldn’t like it and how wrong I was.”

He has no experience with that kind of thing, but he turns his hand over so he can lace their fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

“I was too, especially after I barfed all over Charlie’s shoes and had to buy her a new pair. What girl in college spends a hundred and thirty bucks on glittery combat boots?” Dean asks.

He chuckles over how Dean’s obviously still miffed about that. “Sounds like Charlie, though.”

“Yeah, couldn’t tame her if you tried,” he agrees. “Was your first time a drunken encounter like your handie?”

Castiel laughs over the juvenile term, but says, “No, though it isn’t any classier either.”

Dean drops his chin into his hand. “Do tell,” he says excitedly, batting his eyelashes.

“I had to travel for work, and I convinced myself that since I was in another state and I didn’t know anybody, it wouldn’t be quite as pathetic to use one of those hook up apps.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. And to be honest with you, the hand job was better,” Castiel deadpans, which gets a loud bark of laughter out of Dean. “But it could have been worse. I’ve since heard horror stories of people getting seriously hurt by doing that kind of thing for the first time with a stranger.”

Dean’s eyes go a little wide. “You—” He gestures vaguely between them. “—_received _ the first time you had gay sex?”

“That’s what he wanted to do,” Castiel explains with a shrug, trying to act like this isn’t a big deal to talk about with Dean of all people. “I was just happy for the experience. Besides, he was careful and it wasn’t unpleasant, exactly. He just... didn’t exactly know where everything was.”

“That’s the fuckin’ worst, man,” Dean snickers.

“As if that wasn’t bad enough, he also didn’t seem to believe in the concept of a reach around,” he complains. 

“Jesus. Might as well have gone solo,” Dean quips. “It was actually a chick who introduced me to the joys of ass play. Knew I was made to be a bottom after that.”

He tries not to think about how arousing it is to hear Dean talking about ‘being a bottom’ completely shamelessly. Not that there’s anything to be ashamed of, but in a town like this, it’s unexpected and refreshing to hear. “Dean Winchester, tight end on _ and _ off the field,” Castiel jokes, earning a laugh from Dean. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“That was actually printed in one of the online local papers, you know.”

Castiel’s jaw drops. “It was not!”

“Swear to God,” Dean insists. “There was a whole thing about me being bi and teaching kids once I started dating guys, too.”

_ “What?” _ Castiel squawks, incensed on his behalf. “What does one thing have to do with the other?”

“C’mon, Cas. This is Kansas,” Dean says with a shrug. “Obviously I won that battle, though. And not to brag, but I’ve been voted the Best Teacher every year since I started. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them indeed,” Castiel agrees, lifting his bottle to tap it to Dean’s. 

They each take a drink, and Dean leans in even closer to him. At this point, they’re sitting so close to one another that their shoulders are brushing, and he can feel Dean’s thigh nudging against his whenever he moves. “So the Grindr hook-up was a bust. Was there anybody else?”

“Um.” It takes a second for his brain to think of anything except for Dean’s proximity. Every breath he takes now draws in a whiff of Dean’s sweet smell—is it oranges? Grapefruit?—and it’s incredibly distracting. “There was one man. He was a friend of my father’s actually. He had too much to drink one night and I offered to drive him home...”

“Was he like, _ old?” _ Dean interrupts.

“Older than us, that’s for sure,” Castiel admits. “I never asked how old he was, but he had grey hair and it was really hot for some reason. Sexy, even.”

“Okay, tone it down there Casanova,” Dean teases, but he looks kind of uncomfortable.

“Anyway,” he continues. “One thing led to another and we ended up in bed together that night. It was a much better experience than Grindr, and while I was visiting my parents over the holidays that year we got together several times. It ended up being the best sex I’ve ever had,” he says fondly. “That was...” He thinks back, mentally counting the years. “Jesus, three years ago now?”

“Three years since you got laid?” Dean checks. Castiel nods gravely, but Dean knocks into him with his shoulders. “Been two and a half for me, so don’t feel bad. Dating and shit is hard.”

“This isn’t so bad though,” Castiel comments bravely, glancing around the room.

“Hey, you start makin’ your way through our graduating class after me and I’m gonna be pissed,” Dean tells him.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Castiel asks, already pretty sure he knows the answer.

“Because I call dibs on a second date first.”

Even thinking that might be the reason, his heart swells in his chest almost dangerously fast. That’s pretty much proof that Dean is enjoying this, enjoying spending time with him enough that he wants to see him again. “Omaha is a long way to go for a date.”

There’s no hint of a joke or insincerity when Dean replies, “I think it’d be worth it.”

“Okay,” Castiel decides, thinking it will never happen. “You have yourself a deal. Whenever you make the drive, I’ll go out with you.”

“Shake on it,” Dean declares, offering his hand.

Feeling bold, Castiel tilts his head to the side and hits Dean with a piercing look. “I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

There’s confusion in Dean’s eyes for a few seconds before understanding dawns. He knows Dean’s got it when he licks his lips, and then his smile flashes quickly before Dean leans in to kiss him. His eyes close automatically and a quiet sound is startled out of him when Dean’s hand lands on his thigh. It’s not too high that it’s indecent, but it’s high enough that makes his stomach swoop with excitement. It’s been three years since he was touched like this, after all.

Their lips press and release several times before they part for good, and Castiel is silently cursing Dean for making this seem so simple. Kissing him and talking to him and being with him again is _ so easy, _ and unfortunately, all it makes him think about is doing it again and again.

Dean speaks first. “Wanna lock down a third date right now, too?”

Knowing he’s asking for another kiss has a trail of laughter coming from him, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world when his hand covers Dean’s. “You’re awfully cocky considering we haven’t even finished our first date. A little premature, don’t you think?” 

“One word that’s _ never _been applied to yours truly,” Dean announces proudly. Then he sobers up and whispers conspiratorially, “Just don’t ask Lisa.”

Castiel snorts with laughter. “Your secret’s safe with me, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean’s cheeks seem to get a little pink when he responds by mocking him. “Stop flirting with me.”

“Says the guy with his hand on my upper thigh,” Castiel retorts.

Dean gives his leg a little squeeze followed by a caress, waggling his eyebrows playfully. “I’m a pretty physical kinda guy. Football star, you know,” he jokes. “Always been more hands-on than talk-about.”

He’s hit with a bolt of arousal thinking about Dean being more hands-on with him than he is currently. Seeing an opening and emboldened by the way Dean is looking at him like he wants to eat him alive, he says, “Lucky for you I have no problems with your hands on me... pretty much anywhere.”

Dean licks his lips and their eyes meet. “I’d be willing to test that theory.”

The heat between them at this point is almost unbearable. He can feel it warming his cheeks, simmering in his gut, hot between his legs. His chest is rising and falling much heavier than usual, and he’s about three seconds away from pulling Dean into his lap and ravaging his mouth. He doesn’t bother clearing the thickness from his throat before he says, “My room or—”

_ “Hot damn,” _ Charlie says suddenly from behind him. He’s so startled he actually jolts, and he turns just in time to see her flop into a seat across from them. “You can cut the sexual tension over here with a knife.”

“Fuck, Charlie,” Dean sighs. When she just blinks at him looking far more innocent than she really is, Dean says, “Just because you don’t like dick doesn’t mean you have to stop everybody else from getting some.”

“Like you’re gonna skip a meal,” Charlie scoffs.

“I coulda eaten _ after.” _

“After what?” Jo says, taking the seat beside Charlie. Dean actually groans with frustration and Castiel can’t help ducking his head and laughing a little bit. Of course Dean notices, and he gets an elbow that makes him look Dean’s way.

“I kind of hate you right now,” Dean says quietly.

“You started it.”

Dean’s jaw drops. “You lying son of a bitch! You’re the one who—”

“Hey!” Jo interrupts sharply. “I asked you a question, you know.”

“Seriously,” Charlie agrees. “Would you two quit sucking face over here for two seconds? You’re being so adorbs that nobody’s asking about anything but you two!”

“Sorry, Charles,” Dean says, not sounding sorry in the least. “Them’s the breaks when you’re best friends with a town legend.”

“That reminds me, the town legend here was just telling me all about how he threw up on your shoes after his first time at a gay bar,” Castiel says pointedly, ignoring the look of betrayal he gets from Dean.

“Oh yeah,” Charlie laughs. “He was a legend that night, alright. I’ve never seen anybody cry and blow chunks at the same time before that.”

“I can always count on you guys to bring me down a peg,” Dean says dryly.

“That’s what friends are for,” Jo grins.

“If it helps, I like you more for being imperfect,” Castiel admits.

Dean’s smile is almost as warm as the thigh that increases its pressure against his.

“Hey, room for one more?” Sam asks, looking at the last empty seat at the table.

Dean sighs, but gestures for Sam to take the chair and says, “The more the merrier, apparently.”

“Why do you sound so grumpy about it?” Sam wonders.

“Just reading between the lines here, but I’m pretty sure your brother and Castiel were about to make a break for it to one of their rooms,” Charlie says with a knowing grin. “I cockblocked them.”

“No way. We haven’t even eaten yet,” Sam says knowingly.

Like Sam’s words were the cue they were waiting for, a spotlight appears again and Mr. Adler requests that everybody takes their seats because dinner will be served shortly.

Dean nudges him again, then slides his arm around his shoulder and leans in so that he’s whispering in his ear. “Hey Cas, wanna have dinner with me?”

He pretends Dean’s warm breath on the shell of his ear doesn’t affect him and instead, gives into the smile that’s teasing at his lips from Dean being so adorable. “I thought I already agreed to be your date,” he reminds him.

“Not wishing you said no yet, are ya?” Dean checks, putting a few inches between them so that Castiel can see his face.

Because there seems to be some genuine curiosity in those gold-specked eyes of his, Castiel makes sure he’s entirely genuine in response. “Not at all. I’m having a really good time.”

Dean’s gaze is as soft as his voice when he says, “Me too.”

He considers kissing him quickly, just a peck, but his eyes have barely dipped to Dean’s lips when Jo and Charlie both say, “Awwww,” at the same time.

Dean shakes his head bitterly. “Even with the peanut gallery?”

He shrugs, but he can’t hide his joy when he sees all of his best friends’ happy faces smiling back at him. “It’s nice to be home.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner is really good, both the food and the company. Sharing a meal with his best friends, his brother, and Cas for the first time in a damn decade is great. Watching Cas relax more and more as time goes on (and more beer disappears) and listening to him laugh is awesome. But what’s even better than all of that is all the soft looks Cas keeps aiming at him, the way Cas leans into his touch or finds excuses to touch him, and how obvious Cas is about wanting to kiss him again.

Unfortunately for them both, he’s pretty sure Charlie, Jo, and Sam are on some kind of mission to make sure neither one of them has more than three seconds of silence between them so that they can’t make it happen. He even tries to sneak off to the bathroom with Cas to indulge in some makeout time, but Charlie’s onto him and she drags Cas into a conversation just as he gets up to go. 

Finally, dinner and dessert are both over, and Charlie and Jo have to get back to their work stations. Sam stays behind to finish his beer while Mr. Adler announces that the dance is going to start soon, and as some of the tables are moved until the dance floor is cleared, the three of them listen while he does a speech about several people in their graduating class who have either impressive jobs or interesting stories. He also does the raffle for the door prize, announces the total amount of money they raised for the local homeless shelter, and then a video of _ Then and Now _ photos plays. 

As soon as those are over with, the lights dim, the music starts, and he’s officially at a dance with Cas. There are a few people who rush out to the dance floor immediately, but he, Sam, and Cas just watch and drink. It’s been about twenty minutes when Sam tells them he’s gonna call it a night, and he listens while Sam and Cas make plans to meet up for lunch tomorrow. Then he and Cas are finally, blissfully alone again.

He’s just thinking about how questionable the music choices have been when _ Boom Boom Pow _ by the Black Eyed Peas comes on. It came out midway through their last year in high school, and the nostalgia makes him smile even though the song makes his ears bleed. 

“Hey,” Cas says, drawing his gaze his way. “Let’s go dance.”

There’s laughter in his eyes and Dean can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “No way,” he responds.

“Oh, come on,” Cas pleads. When it’s obvious he still isn’t convinced, Cas adds, “Don’t be _ boring, _ Mr. Winchester.”

Dean pins him with a glare. “I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I,” Cas says with a laugh. “But it’ll be fun. Come on!” When Dean doesn’t budge, the fucker plays dirty and widens his already big blue eyes, looking like an adorable little puppy. “Please?”

His resolve turns to mush in an instant. “You’re such a dick,” Dean complains, but he pushes his chair back and stands, holding his hand out for Cas. “You better have some Magic Mike moves or something to make this worth it.”

Cas laughs while he laces their fingers and tugs Dean towards the dance floor. “I’ve been told I ooze sex appeal,” Cas says over his shoulder.

Considering Dean’s eyes are currently trained on the distracting curve of Cas’s ass as he walks behind him, he can definitely understand that. After half a dozen beers over the last few hours, it’s not really surprising when those thoughts slip right past his filter and out of his mouth. “With an ass like that, I believe it.”

They’ve reached the dance floor by now, and Cas turns around to lead him to an empty spot. “Eyes up here, Winchester,” he teases. When Dean just grins in response, Cas steps forward and catches his lips in a quick, firm kiss. It’s enough to have his stomach clench with how badly he wants a hell of a lot more than that, but then Cas steps away again and starts dancing.

Well, he’s guessing it’s _ supposed to be _ dancing.

Honestly, he looks like a drunk fifty year old, pretty much exactly what he would expect a drunken Bobby to look like if he came out here and started dancing. He’s enthusiastic, that’s for sure. His hips, shoulders, arms, and head are all moving... except they’re somehow all moving to a different beat. He would think Cas was joking if it wasn’t for the way he’s looking right at him with a confident look on his face that might be sexy under any other circumstances. Unfortunately, _ nobody _ could look sexy moving the way Cas is moving, which leads him to believe Cas has no fucking idea what he looks like. 

“Are you drunk?” Dean wonders aloud, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Just buzzed,” Cas answers easily, his hand circling over his head like he’s using a lasso or something. “Feeling good.”

“Well, I hate to be the one who has to break it to you, man, but you look like you’re having a seizure.”

“What?” Cas asks, not slowing down in the least. In fact, he bends his knees even more and tries to circle his hips at the same time as his invisible lasso and fails miserably. Though he’s obviously trying to swivel his hips, he’s way too stiff for it, and the half thrusting and half wiggling combo is just _ not _ working for him.

“Seriously. You look like a... dying octopus or something.”

Cas finally stops moving. “A dying octopus?”

Without having the words to properly explain the trainwreck in front of him, Dean lets his limbs start flying in as accurate an impression of Cas’s dance moves as he possibly can. Cas watches him curiously for about ten seconds before he throws his head back and cackles.

“I _ do not _ look like that!”

“You wanna bet?” Dean asks, also laughing. “Go ahead and dance again and I’ll take a video this time,” he says, reaching for his phone in his pocket. 

“I have a better idea,” Cas says, stepping into his space. “Why don’t you show me how to dance so that I don’t look like a squid on death row?”

Dean can’t help the laugh that comes out of him, but his hands do settle onto Cas’s hips. “That might be funnier than what I said, actually.”

“You’re so mean,” Cas pouts, looping his arms around Dean’s neck. “Why do I like you so much?”

Music to his fucking ears. He wants to preen from those words alone, but instead, he makes a joke. “I’m small-town famous,” Dean reminds him, steering Cas’s hips to sway to the beat of the music. 

He barely notices the way Cas scrunches his nose up because he’s incredibly distracted by the notch of the sharp, firm hip bones his thumbs are settling onto. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“My good looks?” Dean tries, his throat unfathomably dry now.

“Mmmm.” Cas sounds like he’s contemplating that thought as his eyes flick over his face. “They don’t hurt, but no. Not that either.”

His insides feel incredibly warm. He can count on one hand how many people care about him for more than what he looks like, and knowing without a doubt that Cas is one of them is something he’s never been sure of with a boyfriend or girlfriend before. “My witty sense of humor?”

“Closer,” Cas says, leaning in so that their mouths are only inches apart, and jesus christ. Has he ever wanted to kiss anybody more than he wants to kiss Cas right now?

“My charming personality?” Dean tries, sliding his hands along his lower back to urge their groins together. 

Cas nods, his eyes trained completely on Dean’s mouth. “That’s on the list.”

“I think that’s all I got, Cas,” Dean says, feeling embarrassed now that he can’t think of anything else.

Cas shakes his head slightly. “You forgot how selfless you are. How kind. How bright. How one look from you has made me feel like I couldn’t breathe since before I even understood why.”

Now he can hardly catch his own breath. “I got some of that goin’ on right now, too.” 

Cas smiles, showing off two perfectly straight rows of white teeth and just a tiny hint of gums. It makes his chest swell in a way he’s never felt before. 

“So tell me, is this a more acceptable way to dance, Mr. Winchester?” Cas asks.

Dean didn’t even realize they were dancing to the rhythm of the music, but they are. In fact, they’re moving perfectly in sync, slowly rotating, their pelvises flush and their dicks noticeably plump. Now that he’s aware of it, he feels an electric jolt of arousal surge through him, forcing a puff of air from between his lips that he’s sure landed on Cas’s because of how close they are.

“Not totally sure this is the kinda place where it’s _ acceptable _ to get hard on the dance floor,” he admits.

There’s a challenge in Cas’s eyes when he replies, “Then you definitely shouldn’t kiss me right now.”

Dean’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, his heart pounding. “What if I want to anyway?”

“Then I guess we should go somewhere else,” Cas responds. 

Dean brings in a deep breath, trying to use it to clear his head, but instead, he inhales that smokey, woodsy scent he smelled when he first stepped into the elevator. It makes his head spin and doesn’t do a damn thing to help with the semi persisting between his legs. 

“Please tell me that’s your way of asking to get out of here,” Dean says quietly, not even bothering to hide the way it already sounds like he’s begging.

Cas makes a face like he’s scandalized. “Are you suggesting that I put out on the first date?”

Because he knows Cas as well as he does, he knows that he’s joking. He also knows that Cas is just as on board with this as he is. “Really fucking hoping.”

Cas hums like he’s pleased, then bats his eyelashes and says, “I can’t believe I’m getting propositioned by the captain of my high school football team.”

“It’s your lucky night, sweetheart,” Dean drawls, putting emphasis on his midwestern accent. To his surprise, Cas’s breath audibly catches. Dean’s smile spreads cockily. “Did I stumble onto a kink there, Cas?”

“Shut up,” Cas says, basically admitting to it with a shove to his shoulder. “Can we leave now or will I be tearing your clothes off in front of everybody?”

“I think this town’s crazy enough about me as it is. Don’t need them seeing how I’m hung like a horse.” Cas actually laughs at that, which is what he expected considering he knows Cas has seen him naked plenty of times growing up. He nudges him anyway though, and says, “Hey! I could be a grower.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Cas says, and then his big hands are sliding down his arms and sending goosebumps along his spine until both of their hands are pressed palm to palm. 

Cas is fucking gorgeous when he’s smiling with his eyes lit up with mischief and laughter, and Dean goes with it when Cas’s fingers slot between his and he leads the way towards the exit. He completely ignores the knowing looks from his friends and strangers alike as Cas pulls him towards the same bank of elevators they came down in, stealing kisses along the way.

He does spare a wave for the wolf whistle they get from Charlie as they hurry past her though, and he and Cas are both laughing and pink cheeked when they step into the elevator. That laughter disappears pretty fast when they realize they’re alone, though, and in a flash, his back hits the elevator wall as Cas plasters his body against his and seals their lips together. His mouth opens instantly, already welcoming the first probing sweep of Cas’s tongue against his. His hands are in Cas’s hair, pushing through his thick locks, getting another whiff of his smokey scent to go with the hot cinnamon taste of his lips. Cas has braced his upper body by his elbows on either side of Dean, and when he pushes off of them suddenly like he’s going to stop, Dean holds him exactly where he is by his head and sucks on the tip of his retreating tongue. 

Cas groans against his lips, his body surging forwards until their cocks cross and nudge against one another’s, and then heat races through his veins when Cas’s hands land on his ass. He angles his hips out, desperate to keep Cas hard and hot against him, wanting the undeniable proof that he’s not the only one spinning out of control like this. He breathes out a harsh breath when their cocks line up, and Cas nudges his head to the side so he can kiss a line of fire along his jaw while Cas’s hands squeeze and knead his ass cheeks so firmly he’s pulled up onto the balls of his feet. He wishes desperately that he was a smaller man because fuck if he wouldn’t blow his load right here and now if Cas could carry him out of the elevator and down the hallway with his legs hooked around his waist.

Turns out Cas has a wicked tongue, though, so it’s unsurprising his thoughts take a hard left when he feels it swirl around his earlobe. “Fuck, Cas,” he curses, immediately getting a crystal clear image of exactly what Cas could be doing with his tongue if they’d ever get to the goddamn room. Actually, now that he thinks about it, shouldn’t they be there by now?

He opens his eyes and lets his laugh out. That’s enough to have Cas pulling away with a puzzled look on his face, but Dean nods towards the elevator door, which is when Cas gets it.

“We forgot to press the button again,” Cas says for him.

He nods, stunned silent for a second or two from the sight of Cas’s disheveled hair and kiss-swollen lips. “We’re two for two.”

Cas steps away to hit a button, but then he stops and looks over his shoulder with a cocky grin that damn near makes him weak in the knees. “Your room or mine?”

Thinking that Cas probably isn’t the kind of guy who has lube and condoms stashed away in his overnight bag like he is, he asks, “Do you have anything... supplies-wise?”

“Yours it is,” Cas answers, making Dean laugh again. “Third floor, right?” Dean nods his confirmation, and then Cas is walking slowly towards him. Stalking towards him, really, and fuck, Dean is his ready and willing prey. “I actually remembered and was about to press the button,” Cas says, somehow managing to tower over him even though Dean has at least an inch on him. Maybe it has something to do with how Cas’s voice has dipped into a deeper register, sounding more rough and masculine and making him so fucking hot he can hardly even think. Cas isn’t even fucking touching him and he’s _ panting, _ for fuck’s sake _ . _“Right before you sucked on my tongue and I lost the ability to form coherent thoughts.”

Despite the way his whole body is _ quaking _ with need, he manages to joke, “I’ll remember that for the first time I need to get outta the dog house.”

Cas chuckles lowly, and the confident grin on his face tells him Cas knows exactly how much Dean wants him right now and he’s eating it up. Cas leans in slowly, those pink lips of his teasing at the corner of his mouth, making his heart stutter, and that’s fucking _ it. _ He turns his head to catch Cas’s lips in another kiss, forcing his tongue back into his mouth—but that’s when the damn elevator dings.

Cas pulls away and Dean groans, “For fuck’s sake.” Cas has those laugh lines at the corners of his eyes as he grabs Dean’s hand and they leave the elevator. “Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself.”

If anything, that only makes Cas smile bigger. “That’s hard to do since I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more pleased with myself in my life.”

“Just because I wanna get fucked?” And now it’s Dean’s turn to laugh because Cas actually trips over his feet, only managing to stay upright thanks to the grip he has on his hand. The glare he gets from Cas for failing to keep a straight face makes him burst out laughing and has Cas’s lips quirking out of their frown. “Are you a little eager Cas?” he teases.

“Screw you,” Cas tosses back, which only makes Dean laugh harder because that’s exactly what he’s hoping for. “I haven’t had sex in three years, what do you think?” 

Dean nods knowingly as they reach his hotel room door. “I think you want me about half as much as I want you,” he guesses, walking through the door and towards the bed. He rifles through his bag for a strip of condoms and lube so he doesn’t have to search for them later, then places them on the table next to the bed.

When he turns back to face Cas, Cas approaches him until he’s stepping into his space again. _ “I _ think,” Cas says, already reaching to loosen Dean’s tie. “You have no idea how much I want you. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Feeling bold again after watching Cas literally trip over his feet at the idea of being with him, he waits until Cas pulls his tie free from his collar, then lifts his chin to look at him through his eyelashes. He runs his tongue along the backs of his teeth, hyper-aware of Cas’s gaze on his mouth, then lets the childish taunt out when it comes to him. “Prove it.”

Cas _ lunges _ at him. Thankfully, he’s at the foot of the bed, so when Cas’s _ really _ solid body crashes into his, he lands flat on his back with Cas on top of him. He whines when he feels Cas’s heavy weight pin him down, but the sound is stolen when Cas captures his mouth in a searing kiss. Cas’s lips never leave his, still kissing him relentlessly even as he straddles his waist, two thick thighs bracketing his hips with the hard press of Cas’s denim encased erection already digging into his stomach. Cas’s fingers are working in a flurry to unbutton his shirt while his tongue delves into his mouth so skillfully another whine escapes him. He finally manages to catch his breath when Cas’s lips leave his only to kiss his way along each newly exposed inch of skin as it’s revealed. 

His eyes are glued to the sight of Cas kissing down his chest, Cas’s tongue darting out to circle his nipple and tracing the line of his abs. 

“Jesus, Dean. Look at you,” Cas breathes, running his hands over his stomach and up his pecks. 

It takes him three tries to get words out because Cas’s big hands on him feel like fucking fire. “Gym teacher.”

His hands end up fisted in Cas’s wild hair as Cas just keeps touching him, caressing him, tasting him, _ worshiping _ him, and sucking big, red marks into his flesh. He’s writhing and arching into every press of Cas’s lips on his bare skin, and by the time Cas reaches his belt, it’s taking all of his control not to thrust his hips up off of the mattress to try to get Cas’s mouth where he _ really _ wants it. He’s just lucid enough to remember _ this is Cas _ and he deserves better than Dean’s hormones getting the better of him. 

That thought goes flying out the window when Cas pops the button on his fly and lowers the zipper, not hesitating at all before he tugs down the front of Dean’s pants and boxers all at once. It’s instinct when he lifts his hips to help Cas completely free him, and his pants haven’t even hit his knees yet when Cas has his mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

_ “Ah_, fuck! Mmmm _ yes,” _ he babbles. Then Cas sucks _ hard, _and he wheezes, “Son of a bitch.” He pulls his shoulders up off of the bed to watch Cas’s plush mouth pull tight as he sinks down to swallow his cock. He makes another unintelligible sound of intense pleasure and bites down on his bottom lip when Cas flicks his eyes up to his and starts bobbing his head. Heat slams into him like a fist when he realizes Cas is still fully dressed, and his groin tightens dangerously when he thinks about Cas being greedy enough for his cock that he didn’t even bother to undress. 

Cas’s hair is already fucked from his hands, his blue eyes are standing out because of his shirt, and with his cock between Cas’s pink lips, he looks like sex personified. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Cas. Shit,” Dean says breathlessly. Cas seems to take that as a challenge to do even better, and when he pulls off to run his tongue over the underside of Dean’s cockhead, Dean’s fingers clench in the bed sheets and he throws his head back as unbelievable pleasure wracks him. 

He sees stars as Cas goes to work on that one little spot where his shaft meets the head, and he’s letting out a litany of appreciative sounds as Cas proves just how wicked his tongue really is. The way he changes it up from swirling to flicking to sucking on that _ one spot _ at the same time his graceful fingers dance along the length of his shaft has Dean racing to the edge over and over again... only to have Cas switch it up and start anew. He’s completely lost himself to the perfect assault on his cock and is absentmindedly thinking how he could care less if he ever had his dick sucked again as long as Cas keeps working that sensitive bundle of nerve-endings with his tongue when he’s pulled out of the moment by Cas removing his shoes and socks for him. 

When Cas pushes Dean’s legs up so that his bare feet are planted on the bed, he’s naked except for his open dress shirt and trying to get his breathing under control now that he has a second, but then Cas sucks the head of his cock back into his mouth.

And _ fuck—_yeah—this is good, too. Hot, wet heat and the drag of Cas’s full lips wrapped tightly around his cock is fucking _ perfect _ and absolutely sinful. It gets even better when Cas curls his tongue over that spot and sucks and bobs in time with his hand stroking just right and—“_Fuuuuck.” _

Cas is really frigging good at this. He can’t think straight, his muscles are already tense, his shirt is stuck to his back with sweat, and his throat is raw with the way his breaths are being forced out so harshly. Cas pulls off again and his breath ghosts over his wet, flushed skin, sending a shiver up his spine and pebbling his nipples.

“Lube?” Cas rasps.

Anticipation hits him like lightning, and he reaches for it on the end table and passes it to Cas with shaking hands. Cas’s smile flashes as he pops the top, and he sure as hell doesn’t waste any time sealing his mouth back around Dean’s cock. In fact, Cas does something with his throat that he’s never been able to do, and takes him in deeply enough that he can feel the tight squeeze of his throat muscles. It takes him by surprise and he makes an embarrassing, “Mmuhh,” sound as he tries to keep it together. He’s already aching for it, though—clenching, pushing down, wanting something inside of him so fucking bad—and he can’t stop his body from doing what he thinks he needs to do to get it. There’s no use denying how much he wants to get fucked, and he doesn’t even try to hold back the desperate sounding, “Come on, fuckin’ _please,”_ that’s running in a loop in his head.

His dick falls out of Cas’s mouth with a wet flop, and Cas’s voice grinds out, “Jesus, Dean.” 

“Want you to fuck me,” Dean pleads again. 

He watches Cas’s throat when he swallows, then in a clearer voice, he says, “I want to, but you need to relax for me so I don’t hurt you.”

He huffs out a nervous laugh, but nods knowing that Cas is right. He tries to take in a few calming breaths but gets distracted when Cas runs his tongue up his shaft and around the crown. One big hand reaches up and links their fingers together though, which makes his heart melt, and he feels his core muscles relax along with Cas’s grounding touch. 

“There you go,” Cas says. “Look how good you are.” Cas’s low, rough voice encouraging him like that might be a new kink for _ him, _ and he has to concentrate hard to try to breathe through the desert in his mouth. Cas squeezes his hand before he lets go, but he moves it to Dean’s hip, a soothing, calming touch to counteract the slick pad of a finger he feels probing at his hole. He forces his breaths to stay steady, his body to stay relaxed. “That’s perfect,” Cas praises him as the tip of his finger slips inside of him. His toes curl but he keeps his ass as relaxed as he can, feeling desire spike through him as Cas slowly sinks in to the web of his fingers. “ _ Oh_. Oh, you feel good, Dean. Already so good for me.” 

He’s never been particularly affected by sweet talk, probably because he’s heard it his whole damn life over what a handsome face he has, but for some reason, hearing Cas talking about how good he is has him lighting up in a brand new way he doesn’t quite understand. Fortunately for him, that’s the moment Cas goes back to work on his cock, and when he slides his mouth down his length with his tongue pressed against him just right, his mind goes blissfully blank. 

It’s incredibly hot when he pushes back up to his elbows and watches his cock disappear between Cas’s lips at the same time Cas’s finger starts sinking inside of him again and again. Thankfully, it seems like Cas is in just as much of a rush to move things along as he is, and he doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger. His fingers are fucking _ huge _ now that he’s watching them, and his ass burns as they press inside of him, but it’s the good kinda burn, making him think about how it’s not going to be much longer before he has Cas’s cock splitting him open. Then he forgets all about it as Cas’s muffled sound of pleasure around his cock eases most of the pain with the vibrations.

He gasps as the sound tingles along his length. “Mmmf, do that again, Cas.”

Cas indulges him, his low, low voice coming out as a long moan that causes Dean’s eyes to roll into the back of his head with how unbelievably good that feels on his cock. “God, that’s hot. So, so hot, Cas.” Cas takes that opportunity to start feeling around for his prostate, and after a few searching prods, he connects and Dean nods frantically as he calls out, _ “There, _ yeah. Right there, _ ah!” _

Some guys try to punch it like a button, but Cas is rubbing it perfectly, making it harder and harder to take in a breath each time he stimulates it. He doesn’t even notice that Cas has come off his cock again until Cas says, “You’re so beautiful, Dean.” He can feel his blush spread down his neck and to his chest, trying to come up with words to respond when the pleasure from Cas’s fingers relentlessly rubbing his prostate is making him so hot he wouldn’t be surprised if smoke started coming out of his ears. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.”

He draws in a sharp breath as he thinks about his 17-year-old best friend fantasizing about him, jerking off to the thought of being with him just like this. A new wave of heat rolls through him from his face down to his toes, and as Cas keeps rubbing his prostate and suckling on that little spot on the ridge of his cock, he can feel himself losing the battle of staying relaxed. His chest is heaving, his muscles are tightening again, it feels like his whole body is rapidly turning into one hard wall of rock, he’s so fucking _ hot— _

“You’re not gonna come already, are you?” 

There’s a teasing tone to Cas’s voice that he wants to knock out of him. “Fuck you,” he huffs. “Let’s see how long you last when you’re fucking me for the first time.”

Cas laughs as his fingers pull out, dragging a whine out of him along with them. “Good idea. Toss me a condom.”

Dean is still panting, and he tries to hide how his hands are fucking shaking when he passes Cas the strip of condoms. Cas is frantically wiping his fingers on the sheets and Dean finally gets a good look at his cock when he pulls it out of his pants to roll the condom on. Fuck, he’s thick. Longer than he is, too, and he’s about to ask Cas where the hell he’s been hiding _ that _ for the last fifteen years when Cas falls to his knees between Dean’s spread legs.

Then he can feel the blunt head of Cas’s cock bumping against his ass, slotting into place, rutting along the crease between his cheeks and making him feel like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t push inside where he wants him.

“Cas, come on,” Dean begs him. “Fuck me already.”

Cas _ growls. _ He uses one hand to line himself up, and jesus fucking christ, Cas’s cockhead breaches him without pause. The head pops in and makes Dean arch his back with how good it feels, and Cas is obviously right there with him because his voice is as rough as sandpaper when he grits, “Oh god. Oh _ fuck, _ Dean, you’re tight.”

Dean is writhing, desperate for Cas to keep pushing inside of him despite the way it feels like his ass is being split into two. Cas obviously gets it and gives him what he wants, feeding him his cock nice and slow while he adjusts. Cas’s lips find his neck while he waits for Dean to relax again before he dips in further and pulls out to thrust back in. 

He feels like his skin is bursting into flames when the sharp drag of Cas’s zipper against his ass makes him curse. _ “Fuck,” _ he gasps as understanding dawns. “Fuck, you didn’t—your clothes—”

Cas _ bites down _ on the place where his neck meets his shoulder, stealing the air from his lungs and any remaining words that might’ve come out. 

“You were begging me to fuck you,” Cas breathes, and Dean can only nod in response as Cas pushes his way inside inch by inch while he continues to scrape his teeth on his way up his neck. His breath is hot on his ear when he whispers, “I’ve wanted you for _ so _ long, _ so _ bad. I couldn’t—I couldn’t wait.” 

Dean has never felt so desirable in his fucking life. Cas kisses along the side of his face until their lips come together, and Dean moans into his mouth as Cas’s tongue flicks against his expertly. They keep kissing until Cas is fully seated, and Dean spreads his legs wider to try to avoid having Cas’s zipper embedded in his skin any further. Cas obviously takes it as some kind of invitation, because he hooks one of Dean’s legs with his elbow and pulls it up so that he can sink in even deeper, and Dean cries out when his cock nudges his swollen prostate on the first smooth thrust. 

“Next time—next time we’ll do this nice and slow, okay?” Cas asks, already sounding out of breath. His smile is absolutely _ gorgeous _ when he admits, “I already know I’m gonna eat my words for making fun of you for getting off so fast.”

Dean’s laugh comes out in a desperate huff of air. “If you’re not gonna last, you better at least make sure I feel it tomorrow.”

Cas’s eyes spark at the challenge. “Tell me if I’m too rough,” Cas warns him, and then he’s completely unable to form words when Cas pulls out and drives back inside in one smooth thrust.

They both cry out when Cas swivels his hips to grind into his prostate before he backs up to slam in hard and fast again and again. By the time Cas has worked himself into a satisfying rhythm for them both, a garbled mess of screams and names is echoing through the hotel room as they come together over and over. 

Cas grabs his wrists with his huge fucking hands and pins them over his head, holding him in place while he drives into him. Cas’s fingers dig into his skin, the bite of pain and the vulnerable position he’s in cranking his arousal up to eleven, rivaled only by the way Cas keeps nailing his prostate dead-on and making his vision white-out. He gives himself over to the mind-blowing pleasure of his ass getting plowed and Cas’s heavy balls slapping against his skin, revels in how he’s forced to take brutal thrust after brutal thrust. He can’t do another fucking thing—can’t move, can hardly breathe—and he’s turned on beyond belief over how he’s being forced to just lie there and take it as Cas fucks his ass ruthlessly. 

Their lips separate for oxygen, but Cas starts sucking bruises into his neck and chanting his name like a prayer, making his blood bubble with how intensely hot his rough voice is. 

“Dean.” He can feel every letter against his lips. “Dean.” The scratch of Cas’s stubble on his chin. _ “Dean.” _ Above his top lip. “Dean, Dean, Dean.” Cas’s hips never stop moving, never stop thrusting his cock deep inside of him, firing him up from the inside, causing his muscles to tense and his ass to clench tighter and tighter. “Jesus, Dean. You’re so good. So, so good for me.”

He can feel the heat gathering, the grit in Cas’s voice and the painful scrape of his zipper on his skin somehow making him hotter and hotter, the fierce determination on Cas’s face to fuck the orgasm out of him as scorchingly sexy as anything he’s ever seen. Sweat is dripping down Cas’s temples, curling his hair, darkening his shirt beneath his armpits, and the raw scent of Cas’s masculinity is making his head spin. Everything is Cas right now. Every breath, every beat of his heart, every slap of his balls against his ass, every time Cas nails his prostate and sends sparks of pleasure down his spine, every time Dean’s throbbing cock rubs on Cas’s dress shirt, catching on buttons and—_ fuck—_sliding on his silk tie.

“Fffuuuuck,” Dean gasps, the slick slide of his leaking cock on the silk reminding him of the panties he sometimes wears and igniting an almost Pavlovian response in his system. “Oh, fuck. Cas, Cas, _ Cas.” _ His head tilts back, his cockhead slips on the soft fabric again and again, and even the mental image of a streak of precum soaking into the expensive garment has him locking up, heat spreading through him like wildfire. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

He barely has a chance to take in the look of surprise mixed with Cas’s intense gaze before he squeezes his eyes shut and erupts like a fucking geyser. He calls out, his voice raw and broken as his cock spills his sticky seed all over his bare stomach, Cas’s shirt, and_—fuck, fuck, fuck_—even though he can’t see it he knows he’s making a delicious mess out of the silk tie that pushed him over the edge. His ass is clenching rhythmically as rope after rope of cum falls onto his skin, and he’s gasping for air when Cas pulls out, rips off the condom, and starts jerking his cock. 

He’s cursing the condom and disgusting taste of lube he knows it left behind on Cas’s skin because there is _ nothing _ he wants more than to stretch his lips around that fat cock and suck Cas’s brains out until he spills hot and thick down his throat. 

Instead, he frantically motions for Cas to come closer to his face. “Come on, come on, come on. Want you to come on my face, Cas.”

Cas’s jaw drops as he leans forward, his usually bright blue eyes as dark as a storm and his mouth hanging open enticingly while his hand flies over his cock. Cas only has to stroke himself a handful of times with his eyes trained on Dean’s face before Dean parts his pouty lips and shows off his tongue, and then Cas’s whole body tenses, and the first hot spurt of cum splashes over Dean’s chin. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Cas whispers hoarsely. 

Dean darts his tongue out for a taste, earning a groan from Cas, and the next load falls right across his tongue, drawing twin moans from both of them even as another splash of cum hits his cheek, his lips, and finally falls right into his mouth. 

The next thing he knows, Cas is on top of him again, and Cas’s cock is rutting along his as Cas works himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, making Dean lift his hips into the almost-too-much oversensitivity of his spent cock. Then Cas’s hand is on his face, urging it towards him until their lips meet, and Dean moans again when Cas’s tongue forces its way between his lips. Cas dominates their kiss, drives cum deeper into his mouth as the bitter fluid is shared between them with every wet swipe of their tongues. They kiss until his lungs are burning, his lips are sore, and still, he makes a sound of complaint when Cas pulls away.

He has a moment of panic that Cas is going to judge him for being such a needy bottom and asking him for a facial the first time they fucked, but his heart swells in his chest when he sees the affection in Cas’s gaze as he looks down at him. Cas is breathing hard, a dazed expression on his face, and Dean’s lips turn up into a lazy, indulgent smile. 

That was _ awesome. _

The fucker uses his tie to wipe the cum off of his face, and even though he knows Cas doesn’t know what that does to him, his face turns a brilliant shade of red all the same. Apparently he can take a load of cum to the face no problem, but a silk tie is what does him in.

“Are you too warm?” Cas checks, tilting his head to the side. 

How he goes from bad ass sex god to his dorky best friend in a heartbeat is unfathomable, and it has Dean snickering in response. “Probably nothing compared to you. You’re like a human drip, man.”

Cas chuckles with him as he collapses onto the bed next to him, only now starting to pull his tie loose. “In hindsight, having rough sex like that with all of my clothes on probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“No complaints here. Hell, don’t get a big head or anything, but that might be the best sex I’ve ever had,” Dean admits. _ “Hands down _ the best first time.”

“It was without a doubt the best sex _ I’ve _ ever had,” Cas agrees. “Definitely worth waiting fifteen years for.”

Dean snorts with laughter, turning his head towards him and drinking in the sight of Cas unbuttoning his shirt, revealing chest hair and tanned, golden skin he already wants to get his mouth on. “Dude. We could’ve been doin’ it like that all this time if you would’ve said something.”

Cas smiles at him fondly, but disagrees. “You don’t really think we’d still be together if we dated in high school, do you?”

“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “Not like I’m gonna stop liking you; you’re my best friend. You definitely would’ve broken up with me by now, though.”

“What would’ve made me break up with you?”

“My boring life,” Dean says easily, repeating what everybody else has been saying to him this whole time. 

“You forget I already _ have _ a boring life,” Cas reminds him. “I’m sure life with you would be much less boring.”

“So stay and give it a shot,” Dean says without thinking. Cas freezes with one cuff undone, flicking his eyes up to him, and he realizes how that sounded. “What? It’s only Friday. Stay tomorrow and spend the day with me.” When Cas’s eyes skirt away again, he rolls over onto his side to better aim a pout in his direction. “We can have lunch with everybody, I can show you my place, take you out for a second date. Come on, Cas.”

“What if I just wanted you for sex?” Cas asks.

Fear makes something in his chest freeze, but only for a second. He knows Cas, knows he would never do that to him. “Then we can fuck as many times as you can in the next 48 hours,” he responds, making Cas smile.

It falls after a few seconds though, and when Cas speaks again he’s quiet, and not talking about sex anymore. “You’ll be tired of me after half a day when I run out of things to talk about.”

“Then we listen to music or watch a movie,” Dean says, giving him a little push to make him smile again. “Come on, Cas. It’s _ me. _We’re best friends. We’ve spent our whole lives hanging out and not getting tired of each other, whether we had something to say or not. It doesn’t have to be different just because we have sex.”

There’s quiet for what feels like a really long time, but Dean knows enough to wait Cas out while he fiddles with the button on his other sleeve. “I—” Cas clears his throat and tries again. “For me at least, this is not just a friends with benefits situation. Maybe I should have made it more clear before this happened, but I’m not interested in that kind of arrangement with you.”

Dean has to wait a second to think that through. It feels like a rejection and sounds like Cas is saying he doesn’t want to be with him, but the ‘_ for me at least’ _ makes him rethink it. “I can’t really tell if you’re tryin’ to tell me you, uh, like me too much to do this, or that you don’t wanna be with me at all.”

“No!” Cas says sharply, his hand clamping down on his wrist immediately. “No. Neither. I... like you...” Cas says, fumbling over that long enough that Dean’s cheeks heat up when he wonders if it’s because Cas _ doesn’t _ just like him, he still loves him. “I like you a lot, actually. Which is why I know I wouldn’t be able to handle doing the whole friends with benefits thing.”

Dean shakes his head, breathing easy now that he knows what Cas meant for sure. “I don’t want a friends with benefits thing. I like you, too, Cas. A lot, actually,” he teases lightly. “And not just as friends. I wanna spend the day with you tomorrow and as much time as I can on Sunday _ because _ I like you.”

Cas’s eyes slide to his slowly. “It’s not because _ I _ happen to be hung like a horse, is it?”

Dean’s laugh is surprised out of him. “I mean, I’m not gonna complain about that, but I woulda still liked you if you weren’t.” Cas’s smile is soft and as much as he hates to ruin the moment, he has to ask, “How’d you see my dick so many times when we were growing up and I never saw yours?”

Cas smiles nice and wide and admits, “Anytime we were undressed in front of each other after I was about 13, I was always careful to hide because I was petrified if you even looked at me the wrong way, it would be impossible to hide my attraction to you.”

Dean shakes his head and scoffs playfully. “You little perv.”

Cas keeps on smiling proudly. “I got mine.”

Thinking of all the times he shamelessly dropped trow in front of Cas, he’s forced to laugh because there’s no way Cas didn’t get many, many good looks over the years. 

“Seems like you owe me for being such a little peeping tom,” Dean jokes, which has Cas rolling his eyes. “Guess how you can make it up to me?”

“A rim job?” Cas offers, and _ holy shit _ he did not expect him to say that. The shock must show on his face because Cas bursts out laughing. “Okay, fine,” Cas relents. Dean feels like his heart is gonna beat right out of his chest when Cas’s fingers find his and they curl together. “I’ll stay and spend the day with you tomorrow."

“Yeah?” he asks, his grin spreading ridiculously fast.

Cas’s eyes are soft again, and Dean wonders how he ever managed to miss the way Cas felt about him if he always used to look at him like this. “How can that make you so happy?” Cas wonders quietly. “I have nothing to offer you.”

“Hey, cut it out,” Dean says firmly, his heart actually hurting to hear Cas talk like that about himself. “It makes me happy because you’re awesome, I have a huge freakin’ crush on you, and we just had some of the best sex of my life on the first shot. Plus, I’m fucking thrilled to have you back home, even if it is only for a couple of days.” Then, as a thought occurs to him, his eyes widen when he says, “Holy shit! My mom’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you again. I swear she’s been askin’ about you once a week since you left.”

“Yeah, right,” Cas says, disbelief audible in his voice.

“You know ma’s been sayin’ she has three boys since we were in diapers,” Dean reminds him. “She missed you, too. She quizzes me all the time about what you do on Facebook, asking me if we’ve talked. I mean, she’s probably gonna cuff you upside the head for leaving without saying goodbye, but she missed you.”

“I missed her, too. I missed all of you,” Cas admits. “I missed being home.”

Dean feels warmth burrow inside of his chest because he knows the second he hears those words that he’s got a good chance at talking Cas into coming back home for good. It might not happen as fast as he’s hoping for, but he’s sure he can do this. Cas deserves to be happy, to know that he has plenty to offer the right person, and Dean’s gonna be the guy to show him if it’s the last thing he does.

With that thought in mind, he says, “Hey, Cas? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Cas says earnestly.

“Where’d we land on that rim job?”

He doesn’t even see it coming when he gets a pillow to his face, but he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. And besides, hearing Cas’s surprised laugh after Dean throws it back at him is fucking priceless. Cas must’ve thought he’d take it easy on him or something, but even after he gets Cas back, he launches another pillow at him after Cas scrambles away and jumps off of the bed. When Cas’s pants fall down to his ankles as he tries to escape, Dean laughs so hard at the ridiculous sight of his grown-up best friend half waddling and half running to the bathroom with his bare ass hanging out that his stomach hurts, and even though Cas gets away because of it, it’s totally worth it when he hears the sound of Cas’s breathless laughter coming from behind the closed door.


	5. Chapter 5

Twenty minutes after Dean calls a truce, they’re both back in their boxers after sharing a shower to get cleaned up, and Castiel is watching as Dean pulls the soiled comforter off of the bed. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go back to my room for the night?” Castiel asks him.

“I’m sure. And I was sure the other three times you asked me, too.” Dean aims a wide smile at him, but it falls into a frown after only a second. “You’re not tryin’ to tell me you don’t want to stay, are you?”

“No. I just don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

“Well you’ve got ten years to make up for, so I wouldn’t start worrying for a while,” Dean says easily.

He watches Dean pull the tucked in sheets free of the mattress, quickly discovering that being exposed to Dean’s wet, naked body in the shower for fifteen minutes definitely doesn’t mean he’s gotten his fill of the sight. Watching a stray bead of moisture dripping down his back as he climbs onto the bed is already enough to have arousal stirring low in his stomach. Dean had attributed his stunning physique to being a gym teacher earlier, but Castiel remembers his own pot-bellied gym teacher in high school well enough to know he looked nothing like the man in front of him.

“Cas?”

He realizes he was staring openly when he hears the amusement in Dean’s tone of voice. “Sorry. I was distracted by the Sports Illustrated cover-worthy half-naked man in the bed in front of me.”

“Please,” Dean huffs, but there’s a new pink tinge to his cheeks that belies his gratitude. “Get in here and spoon me already.”

Castiel is happy to oblige, but when he slips into the empty side of the bed with every intention of spooning him as requested, Dean scoots over and slings one arm over his stomach while he rests his head on his chest. Surprised but pleased by how eager Dean is to seek out this kind of connection with him, Castiel reciprocates by putting his arms around him. He’s not quite sure how something as insignificant as the tiny content sound Dean lets out makes him fall in love even more deeply with the larger man in his arms, but he knows without a doubt that it does.

For lack of anything else to say, Castiel comments, “This isn’t spooning.”

“‘s’awesome though,” Dean slurs, sounding every bit like he’s about to fall asleep on him.

Castiel smiles fondly, though he knows Dean can’t see him. “Before tonight I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a cuddler, but it makes perfect sense now.”

“Why? Just ‘cause I like takin’ it up the ass means I’m into girly shit like cuddling?”

“No,” Castiel answers immediately, surprised by how Dean jumped to that conclusion so quickly. “Because I thought I knew you quite well and I don’t remember you being such a tactile person before.”

“Wasn’t with guys.” Castiel doesn’t say anything, but seeing as Dean snuggles in even closer, he doesn’t think he has to. Dean’s face ends up tucked up into the side of his neck. “My dad,” Dean explains, knowing that says more than enough.

“Well, I’m enjoying it in any case.” Dean hums in response, his mouth close enough to his skin that the low sound causes goosebumps to spread along his chest to pebble his nipples, which Dean flicks with a snicker.

“I can see that.”

Castiel huffs out a quiet breath, fascinated with how Dean can switch back and forth between being the annoying friend he’s known his whole life and the exciting, brand new man he might be dating so seamlessly. 

Dean throws him off even more when he wiggles in closer still, hooking one leg over his. Because he gets the feeling Dean might enjoy it, Castiel rubs soothing circles between Dean’s shoulders and gets the distinct pleasure of feeling Dean melt in his arms.

The strong surge of affection that runs through him is enough for him to know that he’s completely and utterly screwed when it comes to Dean and the situation he’s put himself in.

“Hey Cas?” Castiel makes a sound of acknowledgement. “Really glad you came here tonight.”

Incomprehensibly screwed. 

“Me too,” Castiel says simply.

“You’re not gonna bail on me before I wake up, are ya?”

Considering how fully their bodies are entangled and how much they shared together tonight, it hurts quite a bit to think Dean might really be worried about that—though he supposes he can’t really blame him. 

“Of course not,” Castiel answers. “I won’t do that to you again.”

“Better not,” Dean says quietly, but the remaining tension that was in his shoulders has completely disappeared now, causing Castiel to wonder again just how much he hurt his best friend when he left. Dean presses a chaste kiss under his chin and says, “G’night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

•••

  
It’s still dark outside when he wakes to the fruity scent of Dean’s body wash. There’s plush lips moving along the column of his throat, Dean’s erection rubbing against his thigh, and a warm hand tracing patterns on his chest. Dean’s ministrations are an obvious attempt at waking him for sex, and it seems even in his sleep he was on board with the idea, because one hand is on the back of Dean’s neck and the other is on the elastic band of his boxer briefs. 

“Dean,” Castiel gasps quietly.

“Want you,” Dean replies breathlessly. When Castiel doesn’t deny him right away, Dean pushes up to his knees and straddles him, trailing his lips along his collarbone to his Adam’s apple and speaking against his skin. “Woke up hard,” Dean says, his voice thick with sleep or desire, or maybe both. “With you lookin’ all hot as fuck in my bed. Wanted you so fuckin’ bad, Cas.” Dean’s mouth continues down his chest to close around his nipple. “Couldn’t wait.”

Because it’s the middle of the night and it’s pretty clear what Dean wants to happen, Castiel gives into the urge to roll his hips up into the soft swell of Dean’s ass. Dean settles more firmly into his lap, the friction on his already rock-hard cock drawing a rough sound from his throat, and Castiel lets his hands explore the surprisingly slight set of hips beneath his palms. 

Because of the dark, he can just make out the cocky smile Dean shoots him from where he’s still bent over him with his talented mouth working over his nipples and along his chest. “Gonna take that as a yes.”

Dean rocks on top of him, and Castiel is already lost in pleasure, slipping his hands down Dean’s hips to get handfuls of his ass, which has Dean grinding down through two layers of cotton with a low sound trapped in his throat.

Briefly lucid enough to remember he hasn’t spoken, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “There is no world that exists when I say no to you, Dean.”

“Fuck,” Dean lets out on a heavy breath. “Listen to your voice.” Castiel can only smile through how arousing it is to know that Dean is affected by something as simple as what he sounds like when he first wakes up. “And I really hope that’s true ‘bout not saying no to me.”

Dean hits him with a sideways smile, and as hope shoots through him like an arrow, Dean braces himself on his shoulders before he dips down to catch his lips for a kiss. Castiel prods at his luscious lips with a flick of his tongue, barely suppressing a groan when Dean opens to him flawlessly, still swaying on top of him to the rhythm of their tongues sliding together.

He kisses him deeply, his hands working their way underneath Dean’s boxer briefs to feel his soft skin on his palms. Dean lifts his hips slightly, never breaking how their mouths are sealed together, giving Castiel the silent go ahead to discard his boxers, and he pushes them down over his hips and to his knees where Dean takes over and slips them off the rest of the way one handed.

Now with Dean’s cock free and bobbing between them, Castiel’s hand moves there instead, wrapping around his hard length and thumbing the sensitive spot along the underside the way Dean responded to so beautifully earlier. As he expected, he feels Dean react, his body jerking above his with a shuddering breath ghosting upon his lips.

Dean pulls the front of Castiel’s boxers down to expose his cock, leaving the elastic to pull tight under his balls, and then he’s got Dean’s ass crack pressed flush to his cock and their lips finally separate when he gasps with pleasure.

“Think we can get your underwear all the way off this time?” Dean teases, rubbing the crease of his ass along Castiel’s cock.

“Not if you keep doing that,” Castiel answers honestly, getting a knowing chuckle from Dean. Dean stretches his torso to reach for the lube on the end table next to them, and Castiel takes the opportunity to run the hand on Dean’s ass up over his muscular flank instead. When he lifts his head to suckle at his nipple, Dean pauses, and he doesn’t miss how Dean braces one arm on the headboard above him instead of continuing on to grab the lube. He swirls his tongue around the now hard nub and sucks gently, getting a sharp inhale from the man hovering over him. 

He could stay like this for days, watching the rippling muscles in Dean’s torso flexing and twisting as he rocks slightly on top of him, hearing the quiet sounds of pleasure he’s earning with his mouth on Dean’s skin. He goes on for ages, working Dean’s sensitive nipples with lips and teeth and tongue, eventually taking Dean’s cock back into his fist only to find him leaking with precum. 

Hit with a sudden intense craving to taste it, he gets both hands on Dean’s back, lifts his hips, and flips them over, settling between his legs so he can stretch his tongue out and clean up the watery, salty fluid with one lick at a time.

He gets a debauched-sounding, “Gahhh,” from Dean for that and feels any patience he was trying to cling to disappear. With his mouth still on Dean’s cock, he kicks off his boxers and lifts his eyes to find the lube Dean was looking for, finding it discarded in the sheets next to where Dean’s hands are currently buried.

He grabs it, flicks the top open, and slicks up two fingers. Abandoning the bitter taste of Dean’s cock for the time being, he stretches himself back over Dean, feeling additional heat rushing through him when their bare chests come into contact again a split second before their lips do, trying not to get too cocky when Dean greedily widens his legs for him. 

Jesus he’s perfect, so fucking willing and eager, and Castiel rewards that kind of excellence by giving him exactly what he wants without preamble, running his lubed up fingers over Dean’s hole and pressing one inside of him.

Dean arches up with a needy sound, and Castiel is lost in a sea of desire as he hungrily takes in the sight of Dean’s body contorting with pleasure. “Look at you.” He says the words low and quiet, his lips now travelling the scratchy skin under Dean’s chin. “So eager for me again already.” Dean’s ass clenches around his finger and Castiel can’t entirely hold back a moan knowing how right he is. 

“Just—just want you.” Dean’s voice is barely a hoarse whisper, and Castiel can hardly fathom how unbearably sexy it is to see such a large, powerful man turned to an impatient, writhing mess because of him.

“I’ve never wanted anything like I want you,” Castiel admits, and then he captures that sinful mouth of his once more while he adds a second finger to his first. He feels a dark thrill of possessiveness when he realizes Dean is still partially open and loose from how hard they fucked the first time, so he only fingers him for a few fleeting moments before he pulls out and moves into position between Dean’s legs.

He can feel the heat radiating from Dean’s core, the trembling of his bowlegs where they’re locked on either side of him, and his entire being is screaming at him to fuck Dean into oblivion. It takes all of his control to stop long enough to rasp, “Condom.”

“Shit,” Dean curses, telling him that he wasn’t the only one who almost forgot. Dean tears the foil package open for him, and Castiel takes it from his fingers, rolling it onto his erection with shaking hands and slicking himself up with additional lube to ensure Dean’s as comfortable as he can possibly be. Then he’s lined up again, Dean’s legs wrap around his waist, and they hold eye contact when he slowly sinks inside.

He’s never had a lover open to him like this, so fucking willing, so _ flawless, _and it steals his breath now the same as it did the first time. Dean is unbelievable, so incomprehensibly sublime that he can’t even begin to imagine anything better, and his thoughts come spilling out of him all over again.

“God, you’re perfect.” He quiets long enough to touch Dean’s face, to brush his fingers over the freckles he can hardly see in the darkness of the room, to look at the way his bright green irises are almost swallowed by his blown pupils. “You’re so good, Dean. Taking me so well. So good for me,” Castiel praises him. 

Dean _ whimpers _ and Castiel fears he might lose it right here and now, intense heat overpowering everything but how furiously attracted he is to the man beneath him. Purely to stop himself from saying something he won’t be able to take back, he tilts Dean’s face up with a firm hand on his jaw and presses their lips together. He can’t keep his fingers as gentle as he knows he should, but in a stark contrast to how every inch of him wants to fuck Dean hard and fast just like the last time, he kisses Dean tenderly while he waits (for what feels like) the longest moments of his life for Dean to relax around him.

Dean’s body gradually goes from strung taut like a bow and clamping around him like a vice to clinging to his lips with a soft sound of pleasure, his body slowly and enticingly releasing tension until they start moving together wordlessly. He slips out bit by bit and pushes back inside of him, the slick heat of Dean’s body indescribably better with each smooth thrust. By the time he’s found a rhythm that seems to work for them both, he’s breathing hard, there’s a fresh layer of sweat on his back, and Dean’s hands are in his hair, pushing his fingers through it, blunt fingernails occasionally catching on his scalp in a way that has pleasure ricocheting down his spine. 

Still, he keeps his pace slow and steady, his lips gentle, his hand on Dean’s face now tracing his delicate features. The curve of his high cheek bone, the slope of his nose, the sharp line of his jaw, the corner of his mouth where their lips are pressed together. He never thought he’d get a chance to touch Dean this way, and in case something happens that he never gets to do it again, he wills each moment to seal inside of his brain to savor again later. He pours every ounce of the love he’s tried to keep buried for more than a decade into their kiss, into his touch, into each seamless thrust deep inside of his best friend.

Dean’s fingers move from his hair to his shoulder blades and grasp at his sweaty spine, and Castiel rocks into him again and again. He can just feel the tremor in Dean’s hands through the haze of pleasure and lifts his head to look down at him, finding Dean’s eyes glistening and oddly shiny in the darkness of the room. 

It—it looks like he’s trying not to cry?

Before he can ask, Dean says, “Don’t stop. ‘m good.”

“Am I hurting you?”

Dean shakes his head and responds so quietly he has to think to piece his words together after he says them. “Just m-missed you. Don’t want you to go.”

So _ that’s _ what it feels like to have a broken heart.

“I’ll come back,” he promises, kissing Dean’s lips again. “I swear to you.” He kisses his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his eyes.

Dean clings to him all the while, his legs wrapped around his lower back, his heels digging into his spine, urging him to keep moving, to keep making love to him slow and sweet. He feels warm hands cup his face, dragging them forehead to forehead, and Dean says, “You’re not gonna get rid of me so easily a second time.”

“Never again.”

In another wordless agreement, they stay just like that—forehead to forehead, blue locked on green—as they continue to bring each other closer and closer to the edge. The emotional weight of what they’re sharing between them now affects Castiel more profoundly than he was expecting, and for some reason, the connection only enhances his pleasure. For him at least, it’s no longer only their bodies that are linked, and with every languid roll of his hips, he inches closer to the finish line. 

When he knows he’s close and there’s no stopping it, he mouths at Dean’s throat, buries his face in his neck, and reaches between them to take Dean’s weeping cock into his hand. He strokes him slowly but firmly, keeping with the timing of his thrusts, and only when Dean’s fingernails dig sharply into his back and his body tightens beneath him does he apply more force behind them. 

Dean’s hot cum falling over the back of his hand along with the breathless sigh of his name on Dean’s lips is enough to trigger his own orgasm, and his free hand tangles in Dean’s while he pumps his release into the condom, shoving himself in to the hilt, as deeply into Dean as he can possibly get, happily staying just like that until they’re both entirely spent. 

He collapses on top of Dean in a boneless heap, soothed by Dean’s hand still holding his and the kiss Dean presses to his temple. Adorably, once Dean kisses him, he can’t seem to stop, and though neither of them say a thing, Castiel counts four kisses to his hair, six to his temple, and three to his shoulder before he has to pull out with a groan to remove and tie off the condom. 

Dean is curled back up on his chest before it even hits the trash bin, and now it’s his turn to kiss the top of Dean’s head with a smile on his face and _ I love you, Dean Winchester _ in his mind. He doesn’t say it out loud because he knows he shouldn’t yet, but he’s more certain about his feelings for Dean than ever before, and he falls asleep for a second time that night with the only thing he’s ever wanted held tightly in his arms. 

•••

  
Funnily enough, he wakes up in the morning in the spooning position Dean had asked for the night before. Dean’s back is pulled snugly to his chest, his arm is still slung around Dean and holding him firmly against him, and his nose is being tickled by the short bristles of Dean’s hair. Despite never having shared a bed with anybody over night before this and the middle of the night wake up call he’d gotten, he feels surprisingly well rested and can’t think of a single reason to leave this bed for the next several hours. 

Because the urge is strong and he feels fairly confident his touch would be received well, he presses a kiss behind Dean’s ear as he softly caresses where his hand is resting on Dean’s stomach. Dean makes a low, happy little sound, and Castiel is smiling when he kisses down Dean’s neck to his shoulder, opening his mouth slightly to taste his lover’s golden skin. Dean turns his head to the side, either purposely or subconsciously giving his lips more space to roam, and he figures either way that’s a good sign, so he retraces the line of Dean’s neck with his mouth while his hand moves down his flank. 

Even Dean’s shape is erotic. The way his shoulders and chest are so broad but taper down to a pair of tiny little hips has his mouth watering, and when his cock gives an interested twitch, he realizes for the first time that he woke up completely hard. Not unusual for him, but a morning erection isn’t usually accompanied by desire pulsing through his body, and he knows that’s entirely because of the man pressed against him.

Now knowing that he’s hard makes it so much more difficult not to roll his hips against the warm, soft flesh in front of him, especially considering they’re both completely naked and Dean’s ass is a work of art (and _ right there!). _ He can’t quite resist the urge to slide his hand over Dean’s hip and down his thigh, remembering fondly just how good those had felt wrapped around him in the middle of the night. 

“Mmmm.”

The low moan coming from Dean is felt against his chest and all the way down to his groin, and his hand darts up quickly to rub over Dean’s muscular pecs, fingers searching blindly for his nipples. He forgets all about that when Dean’s ass wiggles back and his cock nudges against his warm flesh. 

“Morning sex?” Dean asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“I might’ve been hoping,” Castiel admits. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Feels like it’s about to be,” Dean jokes, and Castiel is smiling when he slots himself along Dean’s ass crack. “Fuck.”

“Are you sore?” Castiel checks.

“Nah, I’m ready for you, big boy.”

Huffing out a quiet laugh at that, he decides to check for himself and is pleased beyond measure when he finds Dean fully hard. Dean groans quietly as Castiel strokes him while he rides his ass crack, matching the motion of his wrist to the movement of his hips, opening his mouth to suck a mark into Dean’s shoulder. 

He feels something bump against his hand and lifts his head to see Dean is passing him the lube and a condom. Now propped up, he takes the opportunity to meet Dean’s lips for a chaste kiss, which turns into several kisses as their lips cling to one another’s again and again. In fact, when Dean’s hand comes up to tangle his fingers into his hair with a sound of contentment that hums against his lips, he finds he couldn’t care less if their mouths never separate. 

Of course, that’s exactly what happens when he’s surprised by the sensation of wet, cool liquid on his hand, which turns out to be Dean adding lube to where Castiel’s hand is still circling his cock. He slicks Dean up like he obviously wanted, smiling against his lips at the breathless curse he gets for that, then uses the lube coating his hand to slide his fingers between Dean’s legs where his cock is still nestled. 

The addition of lubrication has his cock gliding much more smoothly against his skin, and he loses several minutes to the heightened pleasure until his cock catches on Dean’s hole and they both make surprised sounds of rapture. 

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean urges him, and just like that, he’s never been more on board with anything. He grabs the lube and condom from Dean, having to use his teeth to tear it open since his hands are slick from the lube, and once he rolls it on, he drizzles more lube over his cock. Dean curves his back and pushes his ass out in invitation, and Castiel hisses quietly when he feels Dean reach behind him to guide him towards his waiting hole.

With Dean’s encouragement, he pushes the head of his cock past the first tight ring of muscle. Even after having sex twice in the last 12 hours, Dean is unbelievably tight without prep, and he forces himself to enter him much more slowly than his body is begging him to. 

“Jesus you’re tight like this,” he breathes.

“Feel fuckin’ huge,” Dean responds, just as out of breath as he is.

After several long seconds where Castiel breathes through staying perfectly still as Dean adjusts to the intrusion, Dean moves back against him and he takes it as an invitation to start thrusting between his cheeks in a slow, languid pace that can once again only be described as love making.

His lips never stop moving over Dean’s shoulders, his neck, and behind his ear. His palm splays on Dean’s stomach, holding him close, caressing his soft skin, helping him move with him in the unhurried pace he’s setting. Every hitch in Dean’s breathing, every time his name passes through his lips, every quiet sound of pleasure builds up the fire growing in his groin. Dean stretches out in front of him, lolling his head back against his shoulder, and licks his luscious lips.

He nuzzles into Dean’s neck, and when Dean’s breath starts coming out short and fast, he pushes his hand down from where his fingers were dancing over Dean’s nipples to wrap them around him.

Coming to a silent understanding again, they both start chasing their release, and their pace increases bit by bit until it becomes fervorous. Still tasting and mouthing at Dean’s skin while he spears inside of him, he teases Dean by continuing to stroke him slowly and surely until Dean finally groans with frustration and urges him, “Harder.”

He feels flames race along his skin from the wrecked tone of Dean’s voice and can’t possibly hold back another second. Without any further prompting, he grabs a hold of Dean’s leg and pulls it up and back to hook it over his hip, and as he feels Dean really open for him, he gives into the instinct to drive inside of him hard and deep.

_ “Yes!” _ Dean calls out. “More. C’mon, Cas. ‘m not gonna break.”

Being willing and eager to give Dean exactly what he wants means he starts fucking him in earnest, slamming into him with thrust after thrust, listening to the slap of skin against skin as they come together over and over.

He reaches back between Dean’s legs in search of his cock, finding it so fucking hot in his grasp that he tightens his grip and plows into him harder and faster as Dean starts throwing his ass back against him jerkily. Castiel has his teeth clenched, fighting down the heat trying so hard to rise up inside of him as he pounds into Dean ruthlessly. He thumbs over Dean’s leaking cockhead, feeling him harden impossibly more, soothed somewhat by the knowledge he’s not the only one about to lose it.

“That’s it,” he hears himself coaxing Dean. His voice is low, cracked and broken, barely more than a rasp. Dean answers in a whine that makes his arousal reach a boiling point in his stomach. “That’s it. So good. So good for me, Dean. Need to feel you come. Come for me.”

“Cas,” Dean croaks, clenching down around him. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

Castiel’s eyes squeeze closed, the intensity of his oncoming orgasm almost leaking out of the corner of his eyes. He can feel his rhythm begin to falter as he’s driven higher and higher. Dean feels _ so good. _ He always feels so good, every single time so far, and he knows he’ll never get enough of him. “You’re so good, Dean. So fucking perfect. Absolutely flawless, inside and out. So - so -”

He’s interrupted by Dean jackknifing almost violently in his arms, a hot splash of cum splattering over his fist with a breathless, _ “Ugh,” _ as stream after stream of cum spills onto his skin. 

The burning need inside of him flashes red-hot in an instant, and his entire body goes stiff for a split second before he muffles his cry into Dean’s hair as he starts pumping the condom full of his release, continuing to thrust hard through his orgasm.

He drives himself so deep inside that his weight forces Dean onto his stomach and he smothers Dean's body with his, draping his chest along his strong back and latching onto the side of his neck with his mouth. The ridiculous instinct to come deep inside of Dean has him damn near climbing on top of him, pinning his chest down with his body, and finally arching his spine to bury his cock as far in Dean’s ass as it will possibly go. He jerks and twitches with a broken sound stifled by Dean’s neck until he’s entirely spent and his body goes lax on top of Dean’s.

“Fuuuuck,” Dean groans happily, still rolling his hips lazily into the mattress under him. He drifts contentedly, feeling glutenous with the amount of pleasure he just experienced and incredibly pleased with the sensation of Dean’s larger body pinned beneath him. “I think you ruined me for anybody else.”

“After only one night?” Castiel chuckles, nuzzling into his neck. “This might be the proudest moment of my life.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “As much as I don’t want you to move this century, you better toss that condom before we have to send in a search party for it.”

Because _ that’s _an unpleasant thought, he pulls out carefully and adds the condom to the other two in the trash can. Sex three times in—he looks at the clock and sees it’s half past ten—twelve hours is most definitely a record for him.

“We would have killed each other as teenagers,” he comments. “We’re adults and we had sex three times overnight.”

Dean chuckles. “I never would’ve been able to walk the next morning.” He rolls over and sits up with a wince. “Might be dicey today.”

“Was I too rough?” Castiel wonders, worried now.

“Nah, you were awesome. A couple Advil and I’ll be fine. Just can’t participate in any sit-ins today.” Castiel laughs at the joke, and Dean says, “Shower?’

“Yeah.” He watches as Dean gets up off of the bed and struts towards the bathroom, seemingly completely confident walking around naked in front of him. Not that there’s any reason he shouldn’t be. In the morning light streaming in through the curtains, it’s easy to see that Dean’s body is absolutely without flaw, and he wonders for the hundredth time what in the world a man who looks like _ that _ possibly sees in him. Dean flashes a smile over his shoulder. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Castiel replies, though his cheeks heat up from being caught staring yet again. “You know, taking a picture home with me would make it much easier to leave later.”

“Nuh-uh. No picture for you. You gotta come back to get the goods,” Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner before he slips into the bathroom. 

The only reason he doesn’t chase right after him is because he wants to give him a moment of privacy to deal with his bladder first. He joins Dean in the shower a few minutes later, and the first thing out of his mouth is, “You know I want you for more than just your body.”

Dean looks just as handsome with his hair slicked back as he did with it so casually tousled, and the softness in his eyes when he looks down at him is almost too much. “I know, Cas.”

Dean smiles at him like nothing else never even crossed his mind, and the mood swiftly returns to something playful and light. Though neither one of them are anywhere close to being ready for another round, they’re still free with their kisses and touches, and they take turns washing each other’s bodies and hair. Dean turns Castiel’s soapy hair into a mohawk and his boyish smile as he admires his work looks so much like the teenager he fell in love with he can’t help but kiss him slow and deep, reminding himself all too well of how connected he felt with Dean in the middle of the night. 

When they part, Castiel has his hands on Dean’s face and they’re both absolutely breathless.

“What was that for?” Dean asks. 

“For being exactly the same person I fell in love with ten years ago.”

The words came out without him thinking about them first, and his heart hops into his throat when he realizes what he said. Before he can even think about taking it back or apologizing, Dean’s smile hits him. Shy and surprised but obviously pleased, and he feels some of the fear that was so heavy only a second ago leave him in a rush.

“Glad waiting ten years for a shampoo mohawk wasn’t a let down.”

Dean’s tone of voice is playful enough, but there’s something akin to doubt in his eyes, and Castiel responds to that instead of what he said. “It was the best I ever had,” he teases. But then he makes sure his words come across genuinely when he adds, “All of it.”

It works. Dean’s smile reaches his eyes now, and Castiel follows the hands guiding him to turn so that Dean can rinse the shampoo out of his hair and press a smacking kiss to his cheek that makes Castiel blush. Now both completely clean, they turn off the water and wrap each other in the too-small towels provided by the hotel.

It’s not until they’re in their discarded boxers from the night before that Dean asks, “Are you gonna let me join you and Sam for lunch?”

“You know what they say about third wheels,” he says, pursing his lips into a frown. When Dean gives him the finger he laughs but says, “What? They add extra grip and greater stability.” Because Dean’s still looking less than pleased with his joke, he approaches him to wrap his arms around him from behind, kissing the bend of his shoulder. “I’m staying for you, Dean. Sam’s the third wheel.”

“Fucker always was,” Dean comments lightly, but he leans back against him and Castiel takes the silent request to heart and holds him nice and close until he wiggles away. 

His eyes catch on the clock again and he sees it’s past eleven now. He could definitely eat, but what he really wants is caffeine. “Any chance The Roadhouse has coffee?”

“Yeah, they do. Not bad for a diner, either.”

“I would do terrible, terrible things for coffee right now,” Castiel admits. 

“Man after my heart,” Dean says with a wink. “Literally the only thing that could wake me up in a good mood other than coffee is sex, so good job.”

“That’s the only reason I did it,” Castiel deadpans, earning himself a quiet laugh from Dean. 

“Sure it had nothing to do with my ass on your dick when you woke up,” Dean says knowingly. “How about you go get dressed, and I’ll meet you down in the lobby. We can go grab a cup of coffee and I’ll text Sam, Jo, and Charlie to come hang out for lunch.”

“Sounds perfect,” Castiel says. He feels odd putting his clothes on from last night after he showered, but he doesn’t really have another choice. 

Dean obviously picks up on his discomfort, because he grins at him and says, “Don’t let anybody catch you doin’ the walk of shame outta my room or the gossip’s gonna be all over town before we even make it downstairs.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to do it,” he grumbles, walking towards the door. 

Dean only has his boxers on, but he catches his wrist on the way by and pulls him in for a quick kiss. “In case I forget later, thanks for an awesome night, Casanova. You rocked my world.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at the nickname and ridiculous comment, and frees himself from Dean’s grasp, hearing his laughter still echoing through the room behind him as he steps into the hallway where he almost immediately crashes into the maid. 

He’s just thinking that she looks slightly familiar when her eyes light up knowingly, and he scurries away with his face burning the whole way back to his room.

•••

  
Dean looks every bit as attractive sitting across from him at The Roadhouse in a worn green crew neck t-shirt and ratty jeans as he did last night in a dress shirt and tie. Actually, he may look even hotter thanks to the way the t-shirt hugs his shoulders and biceps. He has a light layer of stubble along his jaw, and perhaps his favorite part of all, a fading bruise peeking out of the collar of Dean’s shirt where he sucked a hickey into Dean’s skin. His eyes are absolutely captivating today, brought out due to the green of his shirt, and when the light catches them just right he can see tiny little specks of gold that are almost glittering with laughter.

“Dude.”

And that’s when Castiel realizes he’s staring, and why he could see the amusement in Dean’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, a blush immediately heating his cheeks.

Dean chuckles lightly. “Y’know, you used to that all the time when we were teenagers and I always thought you were just a spacey guy. But you were staring.”

“You’re extremely distracting,” Castiel defends, lifting his second cup of coffee to take another sip.

Dean lowers his voice and says, “You had me basically naked next to you for the last twelve hours. You didn’t get to look your fill?”

“No,” Castiel says simply. 

A smile flashes quick and bright, making his heart skip a beat, before Dean licks his lips. “Do you have any idea how often I get stared at in this town?”

“Probably all the time,” Castiel replies, immediately feeling guilty for reminding Dean of all the people who don’t see him for anything more than a pretty face.

“All the time,” Dean confirms. “I can’t even go put the garbage can out on the side of the road in the morning unless I’m fully dressed because people are fuckin’ pervs.”

Feeling properly chastised, Castiel opens his mouth to apologize. “I’m s—”

“But those people are always staring at my ass or my shoulders or arms. And yeah, I saw you check those out too because you literally lack all subtlety, but it was my eyes that put that dopey smile on your face.”

Unsure exactly what he’s supposed to say after being put on the spot like this, he fumbles. “I—I, um...”

Dean reaches across the table to cover his hand with his, his thumb starting to brush back and forth over the inside of his wrist. It gives him something to look at since he’s not brave enough at the moment to look up at his face. “Don’t freak out on me, Cas. I’m just tryin’ to say that for as often as I get stared at, I sorta like the way you look at me.”

“Oh,” Castiel says lamely. He gives himself a few seconds to get his thoughts back in order, then continues, “I guess that’s a good thing if we’re going to keep spending time together, because if I haven’t figured out how to stop staring yet, it’s probably not going to happen.”

“It’ll come in handy,” Dean says, causing his eyes to flick back up to his in his confusion. “‘Cause I’ll know you’re not into me anymore when you stop being such a creeper.”

“The day I stop being struck speechless by you is the day you should have me checked out by a doctor.”

“Jeez,” Dean says on a long breath. “You tryin’ to seduce me all over again?”

Castiel’s lips curve into a smile. “That would be a wasted effort since I doubt either of us could go again right now.”

“O, ye have little faith,” Dean says with a smirk that makes his blood run hot. “But we gotta keep it in our pants for now ‘cause I’m kinda hoping you’ll help me break in my bed at home later.”

“Is it new?” Castiel wonders.

“Nah, but I don’t invite people to my place for one nighters. Sam says I’m weirdly private when it comes to my house, but really I just don’t let every joe blow I meet on the street inside.”

“Well then, I’m happy to be of service,” Castiel quips. “Where do you live anyway?”

“Remember Miss. Mosley’s place on Tackaberry?” Dean asks, to which Castiel nods. “I’m on the corner lot on that street.”

Castiel tries to think back to the specific house but can’t come up with anything. “I’m pulling a blank.”

“Used to be some rich dick bag’s house. Dick Roman, actually.”

“Ohhhh.”

“He let it pretty much fall apart but it had good bones, so I scooped it up and me and Sammy fixed it up. Took a couple of years, but it’s nice and close to mom so I could bum food off of her when I was working on the kitchen or too tired to cook,” he says with a crooked smile.

“Is she still in the house you grew up in?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.” Memories of sleep overs, playing hide and go seek, building forts in the backyard, chasing fireflies and roasting marshmallows comes back to him all at once. “A lot of memories there.”

“We can stop by so you can get that smack to your head if you want,” Dean offers.

Castiel chuckles. “I think I’d like that.”

“I’ve still got you for the whole day, right?” Dean checks.

“Yes. You took advantage of my after-sex high and convinced me,” Castiel teases.

“My evil plan worked,” Dean shoots back, making him smile. “I was thinking we can have lunch and hang out for a bit when everybody gets here, swing by mom’s, then I’ll take you to my place. We can relax for a little while and then I’ll take you out for dinner.”

Even hearing that Dean is thinking about taking him out on a date has his cheeks warming again and butterflies taking flight in his stomach. “You don’t need to do that. I’d be happy to just stay in.”

“No way Jose,” Dean says immediately. “When’s the last time you went out for dinner?”

“Last night.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Before then?”

He thinks back but has no idea. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Exactly. So we’re goin’ out and I’m not taking no for an answer.” He attempts to argue once more but feels Dean kick him gently under the table. They share a smile and he decides to give into the ridiculous notion that Dean wants to do something nice for him. Not that Dean’s never done anything nice for him, but nice _ romantic _ is a different beast altogether. Although, Dean never said it was a date. He just said dinner. So maybe he’s overthinking it. 

Maybe he should ask?

No, he decides. He’ll know. If Dean continues to hold his hand like this and stroke his skin with the pad of his thumb he’ll know if they’re out on a date or not. 

He’s surprised when out of nowhere, Dean gets up and slides into the booth next to him, but only a few seconds later, Sam comes up from behind them. 

“Hey, Castiel! Dean,” Sam greets them, settling into the spot Dean just vacated. He barely glances down at the coffee cup in front of him before he slides it across the table to Dean. “Have some coffee with your sugar.”

“No, then it’d taste gross,” Dean says easily.

“Back me up, Castiel. He puts four teaspoons in his sugar!”

“I saw,” Castiel says with a nod. “I can’t really say much since I use three cream and three sugar.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Cas doesn’t need as much as me ‘cause he’s naturally sweeter,” Dean says, nudging his elbow playfully.

Sam grimaces at the same time Castiel laughs at Dean’s corny joke. “Is this what you’re like with a boyfriend? Because it’s kind of nausea-inducing and I’ve only been here for two minutes.”

“This is me tryin’ to _ woo _ a boyfriend. Have to play my A Game,” Dean says. He punctuates that with an obviously fake yawn accompanied by a fake stretch that winds up with Dean’s arm around him. 

“I hope you’re taking notes,” Castiel says to Sam dryly. 

Sam smiles but says, “Nah. Not really looking for a boyfriend right now.”

Castiel laughs, and that’s when Charlie and Jo get there. They both slide in next to Sam, and they exchange hellos, but Castiel can’t help but notice the gleam in both Charlie and Jo’s eyes as they see Dean’s still got his arm around him. It makes him feel self conscious. 

“So what did you two do last night after I saw Castiel jump Dean in the elevator?”

Sam makes a face like he just smelled something terrible but Jo lights up next to Charlie. “You saw what now?”

“Cas had some major Big Dick Energy going on,” Charlie says, seemingly uncaring of Sam’s discomfort. 

“Jeez Charlie,” Sam complains.

“Am I right, or am I right?” Charlie asks, zeroing in on Dean.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Dean replies. “You know I’m not that kinda girl, Red.”

Apparently Dean _ is _ that kind of girl though, because everybody at the table except for him bursts out laughing. Considering he’s never had friends to talk about sex with before, he doesn’t know how to feel about what’s happening right now. On one hand, he isn’t ashamed of sleeping with Dean and a part of him would certainly like to yell about it from the rooftops, but on the other hand, he doesn’t know if he wants to discuss it at all. Shouldn’t something like what they shared be more private than that?

“All you need to know is we had an awesome night—”

Charlie butts in with, “Mmmhmm.”

“—and morning.” Dean gives his shoulder a little squeeze and Castiel’s glad he didn’t try to finish his coffee because he’s sure he would have choked on it, especially given the high fives Jo and Charlie exchange. “And I even managed to convince Cas to stay tonight and some of tomorrow so we can go out again before he has to go back to work,” Dean says.

“Awww that’s so cute!” Charlie exclaims. 

“No pressure or anything, but I gotta say you look damn good together,” Jo adds.

“Right?” Charlie asks, seeming to agree with Jo.

“You’re just staying the weekend?” Sam asks. “Didn’t you tell me you had the week off?”

Dean turns sharply to look at him with his mouth hanging open. “You do?”

Because Dean looks both shocked and betrayed, he launches right into the explanation. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. You asked me to stay tonight and tomorrow and I agreed. I’m sure it would have come up.”

“So you don’t have to go home tomorrow?” Dean checks. 

Castiel is hyper aware of how Charlie, Jo, and Sam are all watching them have this discussion and it makes him a hundred times more nervous than he would be if it was just he and Dean. He lowers his voice, though he knows they can probably still hear him. “I didn’t bring clothes or anything for more than the weekend...”

He’s pleased when Dean quiets his voice in response. “But other than that?”

He searches Dean’s eyes, and because all he can see now is hope and excitement, he relents. “I guess technically I don’t have to go home just yet. I didn’t have any other plans for a few days.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Dean says happily, and for a split second he thinks Dean’s going to kiss him. His eyes certainly lower to his lips, and Castiel’s heart beat starts racing just a little bit faster.

“He didn’t say he was going to stay,” Sam points out. 

“I didn’t ask him to,” Dean shoots back. “We’ll talk about it _ not _ in front of the peanut gallery.”

“Okay but that whole conversation was already the cutest thing I’ve ever seen with you and anybody else you’ve dated,” Charlie says.

“Would you cut it out already?” Dean asks her. “You’re gonna scare him away before he even gets a burger.”

“You can’t leave before you eat,” Jo tells him.

“I won’t,” Castiel promises, offering her a small smile. 

“You know, you’ve barely said more than two words to anybody but Dean since we got here,” Jo seems to notice all of the sudden. 

Dean defends him with, “It’s not like anybody’s shut up enough to give a chance.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says when all eyes fall on him. “I haven’t been out with a group of people like this since before I left, so it might take a little bit of practice.”

“You were okay last night,” Sam says.

“I also had half a dozen beer,” Castiel replies. Wanting to contribute to the conversation, he asks, “How much longer did you end up staying after we left?”

“We all stayed until the end,” Sam says.

“We had to fend off all the questions about you two,” Charlie grins. 

“What was the official line we came up with by the end?” Sam asks, sounding like he knows exactly what it was.

“As far as we know, they’re just getting to know each other again,” Jo and Charlie both respond in unison.

Charlie continues, “Best response went to Becky Rosen with, ‘More like getting to know how far they can shove their tongues down each other’s throats.’”

“Becky Rosen!” Castiel says as a lightbulb goes off. Dean looks over at him in surprise and he asks the table at large, “Does she work at the hotel?”

“Yeah, she does,” Charlie answers him. “She’s the day manager.”

“I ran into her coming out of your room this morning,” Castiel tells Dean. There’s a resounding groan from everybody all at once. “What? What am I missing?”

“She’s the biggest gossip in the whole town,” Sam explains. “And she’s weirdly obsessed with both me and Dean.”

“More you than me,” Dean says to Sam. “But he’s right about the gossip thing. There won’t be a damn person with ears in this city who won’t know you came outta my room this morning.”

“And with the hickey on your neck, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together,” Jo says, smiling knowingly at Dean.

He sees four pairs of eyes turn towards him again as if they’re waiting for an explanation. “Was it supposed to be a secret?” he wonders. “Because you weren’t exactly shy about kissing me at the reunion last night.”

“Well, no,” Dean says, smiling a little. “But getting a little handsy on the dance floor isn’t the same as spending the night with somebody.”

“Especially when you’re Dean Winchester,” Charlie says in a dreamy falsetto that makes Castiel laugh. “To everybody’s disappointment, he doesn’t sleep around.”

“If I ever end up coming back and looking for a job here, I’ll make sure to add that to my resume,” Castiel jokes. 

“I’ll give you a hell of a reference, too,” Dean adds, and when Sam makes gagging noises as the waitress comes over to take their orders, Castiel feels weirdly at home.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Watching Cas pass his cell phone around so that everybody can put their numbers into his contact list makes Dean feel like his heart is going to burst with a mixture of happiness and hope. Yeah, Cas had been a little awkward at first (just like he was in the elevator last night) but he came around pretty quick and now it feels just like it used to when the five of them were hanging out together. 

Except now neither of them can keep their hands to themselves.

It’s just innocent little touches—a hand on a knee, a gentle caress of the inside of a thigh, a bump of shoulders, a quick squeeze of a hand under the table—but it’s all so _ easy _ that it makes him feel like he’s walking on cloud nine. And that’s not even taking into consideration everything he’d felt last night when he just fuckin’ _ had _ to wake Cas up to touch him and feel him against him after seeing him looking so perfect in his bed. 

It’s been a while since he had sex, yeah, but he’s absolutely positive that the whole ‘coming home’ feeling he had when Cas had finally slipped inside of him again was brand spanking new. He’d never felt that before. Then he felt it again when they were together this morning, and the only reason he’d asked Cas to fuck him harder was because he knew he was gonna start blubbering and blabbing stupid shit just like he did the night before if he didn’t, and he doesn’t want to be that desperate guy begging Cas not to leave. 

What was with that, anyway?

Is it because this is what he’s been missing in his life? He’s got a job he likes well enough and a plan in place to do something he thinks he’ll like even more, he’s got his mom and his brother, and a handful of really good friends, but is this the missing piece? Is _ Cas _ the missing piece? It’s fuckin’ nuts because he’s barely been out on two dates with the guy (if you can even count the reunion and lunch as group dates) and he’s already thinking that he might be. 

Sam and Cas are talking about some book he hasn’t read yet, and he uses it as an excuse to look at Cas while he tries to figure everything out. As Cas gets more and more animated, his hands start waving around, and Dean gets so distracted by the memory of how good Cas is with those graceful fingers of his that he doesn’t notice until it’s too late that Cas’s hand slipped across the table to snatch his bill away.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean asks, but the doofy smile on his face gives away how he’s not mad in the least.

“I buy lunch, you buy dinner,” Cas bargains, and he can tell just by the stubborn set of his stupidly strong jaw that this conversation is only going to end one way.

Considering dinner is 100% a date, he’s down for being the one to front the bill for that. “Works for me.”

“You got mine last time,” Jo says to Charlie. Once Charlie hands her bill over to Jo, she, Cas, and Sam get up to go pay, leaving him and Charlie alone at the table and awarding him with the opportunity to watch Cas as he walks away.

He’s not surprised in the least when Charlie immediately starts in on him with a slap to his arm. “You are so totally smitten!"

He can feel his cheeks getting a little warm but he shrugs because it’s true. “How obvious am I?”

“To me? You might as well have it tattooed on your forehead. To him?” She winces. “You probably _ will _ have to tattoo it on your forehead because he’s clueless. He still looks at you like you raised the sun, though.”

“Nobody’s ever looked at me like that before,” Dean says quietly. 

_"Everybody _looks at you like that here," she laughs. She adds a dreamy sigh and says, “He's clearly a goner for you, too, but before you go getting all attached, have you thought about what might happen if he doesn’t want to move back?”

“He will.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He will,” Dean insists.

“But what if he doesn’t?” she asks, just as stubborn as he is.

“Then I move there,” Dean answers, surprising himself with how serious he is even as the words leave his mouth. He takes a quick second to really think about it and nods to himself. He’d do that for Cas. He’d miss him too much not to. 

Charlie’s eyebrows stay raised, like she never in a million years expected him to say that, but then she smiles and looks more like his best friend when she sings, “Deeeean’s in looooove. Deeean’s in looooove. Deeeean’s in loooo—”

He feels his heart clench but his head shakes with disagreement, completely ignoring the way he can feel the blush spreading down his neck.

When he tries to shove his hands in his pockets while he’s sitting down (a nervous habit he’s aware of but can’t seem to kick), he knows that he’s trying to convince himself every bit as much as he’s trying to convince Charlie. “I haven’t seen him in ten years. You can’t just... fall in love with somebody overnight.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Charlie says with a shrug. “But you’ve known Castiel since you were, what, four years old? I definitely think you can _ revive _ a long-lost love from ten years ago overnight.”

“I never said I was in love with him back then,” Dean says, the words feeling every bit as awful coming from his mouth as they sound.

Charlie tilts her head and pins him with a placating look. “Did you have to, though?”

As if Cas was just waiting for Charlie to plant the seed, he steps up to the table and smiles down at Dean like he has no idea he’s about five seconds away from diving head-first into a midday crisis. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s bail.” They say their goodbyes to their friends, and they’ve almost reached his car when he realizes they’re holding hands for the whole town to see. “Follow me to my place?” Dean asks.

•••

  
“You made this?” Cas asks, pointing to the breakfast bar in the kitchen in front of the back window.

“Not like it was hard,” Dean lies, basking in the awe written all over Cas's face. He doesn’t want to show how much he loves this kind of praise though (specifically from Cas) so he turns and starts walking back through to the living room.

“I guess it’s easy to believe that you’d be good with your hands in more ways than one,” Cas says, drawing a genuine grin from him this time.

“From what I remember—although you did kind of fry my brains—I didn’t really get much of a chance to prove that,” Dean responds, looking over his shoulder.

“Well, there’s always tonight.” 

How Cas manages to flip a switch and turn from his dorky best friend to the predatory man in front of him, Dean may never know, but he’s sure as fuck into it. “I like the way you think," he responds, turning so that they're face to face.

Cas catches his hand in his and pulls it up between them, weaving their fingers together. “In that case, you should show me your bedroom.”

He smiles seductively, nice and slow, and steps even closer to Cas. “Why bother with the bedroom when there’s a perfectly comfortable couch right here?”

Cas’s hands dart out to rest briefly on his chest before slowly roving over his shoulders to loop around his neck. “You have my full attention.”

The suggestion of trading blow jobs on the couch dies right there because he can see that he does have Cas’s full attention. He really, really does. Those blue eyes are trained on his face, taking in the curve of his cheeks, his full lips, and then back up to his eyes. Cas is clearly drinking it all in, gazing at him like he’s the only thing in the whole world worth looking at. There’s heat there, yeah, but it’s _ that thing _ in Cas's eyes that really gets him, especially given how he was wondering if Cas could be his missing piece back at The Roadhouse and the whole drive back here.

“Are you still in love with me?” he blurts. 

The half a step Cas falls back feels like a shot through his heart and he does his best to mask his pain by ducking his head and swallowing down the lump that just appeared in his throat.

“Forget it,” he says immediately. “Shouldn’t’ve even—”

“I wasn’t lying in the video,” Cas says, his voice steady and sure enough that curiosity forces Dean to look up again. “I think I’ve always been in love with you. I honestly can’t remember a time when I wasn’t.”

It's exactly what he wanted to hear, and yet he hears himself trying to cancel it out before it even sinks in. “That—that was a long time ago, though.”

Cas tilts his head in confusion, and his voice is light and easy in a way Dean isn’t feeling _ at all _right now when he talks again. “Do you think you’ve changed that much since then? Because I know for a fact you didn’t change much in the ten years before high school.”

“I went from 4 to 14,” Dean points out. “I must’ve changed.”

“You got taller. Quite a bit taller actually,” Cas jokes, and Dean rolls his eyes without managing to stifle a sigh. “Come on, Mr. Winchester. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Dean turns and plops onto the couch with a groan, dramatically throwing his arm over his face to hide his eyes. “I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that.” He can feel Cas sit down next to him, and despite the fact that he’s freaking out, the warmth from where their legs press together is calming. “When did this start? Because you seemed fine before we got to The Roadhouse. Wait, is this about Becky Rosen?”

Dean actually laughs. “No, it’s not about Becky. Never gave a shit about any of the other rumors she started about me being in love with everybody I looked at from the butcher to the fucking mail man, so why would I care when she’s actually got it right for once? Even a broken clock is right twice a day, right?”

The stark silence from Cas is confusing for long enough that he moves his arm to check what’s happening, and it isn’t until he sees the shock/confusion/hope on Cas’s face that he realizes what he basically admitted to.

And that’s when Cas seems to regain control of his mouth.

“What did you just say?” Cas asks breathlessly.

“Nothing,” he lies, immediately denying it for his own self-preservation. He wasn't _ready_ to say that yet. Hell, he doesn't even know if it's actually true. “Doesn’t count if it slipped out!” he adds, hating how he sounds like a ten-year-old arguing over a game of tag.

Cas, a dog with a fucking bone, says, “You’re in love with me?”

“Doesn’t count if it just slipped out,” Dean repeats, his voice sounding slightly more hysterical this time.

Cas puts his hands on either side of his face, reminding him of that kid from Home Alone. “Dean Winchester, captain of the football team—”

There’s that damn falsetto voice again, only this time he isn't nearly as amused as the last time. “Fuck you very much.” Cas laughs, looking so adorable he can't hold onto his anger.

“You wanted to know if I’m still in love with you because you think you might be in love with me?” Cas asks him.

“Yeah, so?” Dean shoots back. “You loved me first.”

“That seems to be the way it happened, yes,” Cas confirms, his eyes dancing with laughter. “Why is it freaking you out so much, though? It’s me.”

“How come _ you’re _ not freaked out?” Dean counters. “We haven’t seen each other for ten years, accidentally ran into each other, spent the night together and—and—”

“Fell in love?” Cas finishes for him.

“How do you fall in love in a night? That’s not—that’s not even a thing. That’s not _ normal,_ Cas! Yesterday I was miserable and single and thought I’d end up living with my brother for the rest of my life and now—”

“And now?” Cas prompts.

“Now I’m—I’m thinking about how I could teach in Omaha if I had to?” Dean asks bitterly. “It’s crazy!”

“Dean,” Cas says softly. When Dean refuses to look over at him, Cas takes his hand and pulls it over to his lap, sandwiching it comfortingly between his. “Let’s take love off of the table for a second since it seems to be stressing you out so much.”

“How do you _ take it off the table?” _ Dean asks.

“Just forget about it for a second,” Cas tells him. “Pretend it’s not relevant.” _ But it is relevant. _ “Because really, it has little to do with this.”

“It has _ everything _ to do with this.”

“Why?”

“B-because!” Dean sputters. “Because you love me and I—well, I _might—”_ He stops there because he’s _ not _ saying it like this for the first time. “And I don’t want to go back to not seeing you. I don’t want you to go to Omaha again and never come back.”

“I won’t,” Cas tells him. Before he can argue further, Cas says, “Did you have a good time last night at the reunion?”

Dean huffs. “Obviously.”

“Did you have a good time at lunch?”

“Yes,” Dean replies dryly.

“And you still want to go out again tonight, right?”

“Right.”

“And assuming we have a good time again, you’d like to keep dating me even after I go back home?”

Because that is what he wants and neither of them has brought that up for real until now, his voice is softer now. “Yeah.”

Cas smiles, brings his hands up to his mouth and kisses his fingers. “I want that too.”

He feels something loosen in his chest just hearing him say that. “Okay,” he replies, not sure where to go from here.

“In a perfect world for you—where we continue dating, getting to know each other again, and having the best sex of our lives—what happens next?”

Dean’s eyes go a little wide from the question, but he basically already laid his heart out when it comes to this anyway. “We don’t live hours apart.”

“I agree,” Cas says simply. “Quite frankly, it’s going to be difficult to leave here already, so I can only imagine it will continue to get worse the closer we get.” Dean nods, a new knot forming in the center of his chest at the very thought. “But I would never ask you to move to Omaha. Your family is here, Dean, and I know how much they mean to you. If things go well between us, I would be more than happy to move back.”

Dean nods again, more enthusiastically this time, and he finds he's not quite as afraid to voice how he feels now. “That’s what I want.”

“Me, too,” Cas says solemnly, causing hope to bubble up inside of him. _ “But, _ I’m not just going to move back next week.”

He feels that _ but _ like a kick to the stomach. “Why not?”

“Because that’s crazy,” Cas says with a bit of a laugh.

“But you—you said you love me,” Dean points out quietly.

“But we’re tabling that right now,” Cas reminds him, gently knocking their shoulders together. “Right now we’re just best friends who have recently developed a romantic interest in each other. So it would be crazy to rearrange my entire life and give up a job I’ve been working at for the last seven years after a few dates, regardless of how much we care about each other.” He chooses not to say anything because logically, Cas is absolutely right, but emotionally, the very idea of Cas leaving in a day or a few days tears him to shreds. “Right?”

Dean shakes his head, trying not to get emotional. “I don’t wanna agree with you.”

“But you do.”

He shrugs his shoulder in response, and when Cas sighs and wraps his arms around him, pulling him in nice and close, Dean goes willingly. He presses his face into the crook of Cas’s neck and just breathes—breathes in that smokey, woodsy scent that has somehow stuck to Cas even after using his own citrus body wash. It makes his heart ache and he doesn’t understand why.

How can he miss Cas before he’s even left?

“Why can’t you move back just because we’re best friends?” he wonders.

“I probably would have,” Cas admits.

“Why don’t you then?”

“I never said that I wouldn’t,” Cas points out. “I just said not right away.”

“This is stupid,” he whines, burrowing even more closely to his neck. “I’m annoyed with myself because _ I know _I’m being stupid and needy and whiny.”

“You’re being adorable.”

The audible fondness in Cas’s voice makes him feel better and worse at the same time. “I’m literally never like this. Ask anybody. Dean Winchester doesn’t get attached, and he sure as hell doesn't talk about his feelings.”

“I’m glad I’m the lucky one who gets to see it then,” Cas replies. “I am curious though, is this how we’re going to spend the afternoon? I’m perfectly fine with it if it is, I’m just wondering if I should get more comfortable.”

“No,” Dean answers, not bothering to hide the pout in his voice. “But maybe a little longer.”

“What did you want to do today?”

“Go to mom’s place, let you check out your old house, maybe a movie before we get ready for dinner later,” Dean rattles off.

“As much as I’d like to see Mary again, why don’t we do that tomorrow? We could start the movie now, and that way you can get your snuggle time in,” Cas says, clearly teasing him now.

“You think I’m not manly enough to admit I like cuddling?” Dean checks.

Cas’s shoulders shake with his gentle laughter. “I think if I tried to take a picture right now you’d be on the other side of the room before I managed to turn my phone to selfie mode.”

“Try me,” Dean challenges.

Cas shoves his hand in his pocket and comes out with his phone. He watches as Cas swipes to unlock it, clicks the camera function, selects selfie mode, and even looks up at his phone with a genuine smile when Cas holds it in position for a picture. Cas is smiling softly too, and when he lowers it in front of them after he takes the picture, Dean feels like his heart does the Grinch thing and grows three sizes.

They’re fucking _ adorable. _ Cas’s cheek is smushed into his forehead, his own smile is ten times softer than he thought it would be, and maybe best of all, Cas’s smile is even bigger and softer than his.

“We look like a couple.”

Cas says it almost exactly the same time he thinks it, and because it’s been way too damn long and the only thing he wants right now is to kiss Cas, he tilts his chin up in invitation. Cas cups his jaw, and then fucking _ finally,_ their lips meet. It’s gentle and sweet, their lips slipping and sliding together perfectly until they part for good, and when Dean opens his eyes again to see those baby blues smiling down at him, he’s a goner.

The sudden influx of warmth inside of him, the butterflies in his stomach, and the excitement and fear rushing through him all at once is more than enough to confirm what he’d been freaking out about earlier: he’s in love with Cas.

“Dean,” Cas breathes, his usually rough voice as smooth as honey right now. “You can’t just look at me like that.”

He feels heat hit his cheeks but shrugs again like he’s not secretly melting inside. “You started it. Charlie said you look at me like I raised the sun.”

“Oh she did, did she?” Cas asks. “I guess that means I can tell you what she said about you when you left to use the bathroom, then.”

Knowing exactly what a blabber mouth Charlie can be, Dean narrows his eyes. “What'd she say?”

He can see a weird mix of happy and sad in Cas’s eyes, and he almost doesn’t want to hear what Charlie said if it makes Cas look like this. “She said she hasn’t seen you this happy since before I left.”

Dean swallows hard, his blush having no chance of ever disappearing now. “She always had a big mouth.”

“Dean?” 

It takes him at least five seconds to work up the courage to look Cas in the face. 

“I know I said it before,” Cas starts. “But I’m really sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I did something that contributed to your unhappiness.”

“‘s fine,” Dean lies.

“It’s not fine, and I’m sorry.” It feels like he’s waiting for something, so Dean nods. “If I could take it back... go back and do it over again... I would stay.”

Now he shakes his head in disagreement. “No way. You left because you weren’t happy.”

“Because it was torture loving you and not being with you the way I wanted to be,” Cas tells him. “If I knew I only had to wait another ten years, I could have stayed and been your friend.”

He lets that sink in for a second, then wonders aloud. “Think it would’ve taken ten years if you never left?”

“No,” Cas says simply. “I think as soon as Charlie found out we were both interested in men, she would have been placing bets on who would ask who out first.”

“Please,” he scoffs. “In no world _ anywhere _ would you _ ever _ ask me out first.”

Cas laughs softly. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Get a few drinks in me and I’m pretty flirty.”

“I remember that pretty well from last night,” Dean says, shooting him a confident smile. 

“That makes two of us.”

The reminder of last night is enough to make him want to be closer to Cas, and so he leans in a bit, and Cas meets him halfway for a series of short kisses that has those butterflies going crazy in his stomach again. 

They finally separate several minutes later, and while half of him still wants to bring up the blow job idea he had not that long ago, he decides against it. Instead, he asks, “Wanna watch that movie?”

“Does it come with the very manly snuggling we mentioned earlier?”

_ “You _ mentioned earlier,” Dean retorts. “But yeah,” he says, more softly now. “Dibs on the snugglee.”

“Snugglee?” Cas echoes with a snort of laughter. “That means I hold you?”

“I called dibs, standard rules apply.”

“Wow, it’s been ten years since I’ve heard that come out of your mouth and it’s every bit as annoying and unattractive as it was back then.” 

“You forget I called dibs on a second date way back—”

But Cas cuts him off with a rushed, overly loud, “Dibs on picking the movie!”

“Son of a bitch!”

•••

  
Several hours after the movie that turned into a nap, he and Cas are both getting dressed for their date. They had showered together (again) and exchanged some slow and sloppy hand jobs while making out like teenagers. Afterwards, they shaved side-by-side, which was a brand-new experience for them both that had Dean praising himself for the foresight to install two sinks in the bathroom. 

Now, though, they’re each in separate bedrooms getting dressed. When Cas said he only had one other set of clothes with him and that they were similar to what he wore last night (a dress shirt and a tie) he decided to take Cas someplace nice to woo him since he knows for sure he’s in love with him now. Cas seemed unsure, so he used his limited wardrobe as an excuse, explaining he didn’t want Cas to feel out of place. That had worked, and he’s been thinking up a plan in his head of how to best sweep Cas off of his feet with the perfect date ever since with the end goal of growing a pair of balls and telling Cas, “I love you, too,” at some point tonight.

He himself doesn’t have a ton of fancy clothes though, so he goes with a nice pair of jeans and a soft vee neck tee with his only blazer over top, hoping that’s fancy enough for the restaurant he has in mind.

Fully ready now, he ducks out of the bedroom with his keys and wallet in his pockets, slips on his shoes, and walks out the front door with a smile on his face. He knocks on the door of his own house trying to fight the dopey smile away, but when he hears Cas call, “Dean? Somebody’s at the door!” from inside, he knows it’s a lost cause. “Dean?” Cas calls again. There’s a slight pause and then Cas pulls the door open and his face immediately splits on a huge grin.

Cas is in a plain white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows along with a blue tie that really brings out his eyes. Cas’s hair is neater than it was before, and though he’s partial to the messy look himself, the first thing that comes to mind is still, “You look amazing.”

Cas huffs, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. “What are you doing?”

“Picking you up for our date,” Dean says with a grin.

Cas continues to look at him fondly. “This might be the cutest thing anybody’s ever done for me.”

“Cute’s my middle name,” Dean quips. “Are you ready to go?”

Cas pats his pockets as if checking he has everything and nods. “Yes.”

He offers Cas his arm to take with a cheesy smile, and Cas steps out and takes it wordlessly, still with a soft smile on his face. He likes how they both walk towards the Impala without having to talk about it, Cas already knowing that there’s no chance in hell they’re not driving Baby.

He opens the passenger door for Cas, succeeding in making him blush with the sappy shit just like the night before, and then he comes around his side of the car and slides into his seat. He turns the keys in the ignition and listens to the familiar rumble of the engine, glancing over at Cas when a sense of satisfaction overcomes him. He’s got Cas back in the passenger seat where he belongs and he can’t think of anything better.

“You still look incredibly hot in this car,” Cas comments.

“Still?” Dean prods.

“I’m not saying I got _ a lot _ of inappropriate boners as a teenager from watching you handle this beast of a car like a pro', but I’m not _ not _ saying that either,” Cas comments, which makes Dean laugh.

“Anything going on down below right now?” he asks, looking pointedly at Cas’s crotch.

“Not yet, but you haven’t started driving.”

“Well let me know if I’ve still got it in a few minutes,” Dean teases, shifting into reverse and backing out of his driveway confidently with one hand slung back along the seat and one on the wheel.

“You cocky little shit,” Cas says fondly.

Dean just smirks at him and cranks up Led Zeppelin before he takes off down the road. It’s only a short drive and a part of him actually wishes it were longer because he didn’t know how much he missed driving around with Cas until right now. Just feels right. Maybe he can convince Cas to stay the week and they can go on a road trip to nowhere, just the two of them and a full tank of gas, stopping wherever and whenever they want.

Once they arrive at the steak house he had in mind, he second guesses his choice once he sees how packed the parking lot is. Saturday night at six, though, so it’ll likely be the same anywhere.

“Busy place,” Cas comments once they’re out of the car.

“We’re not in a rush, right?” 

“Not at all. I’m just happy to know the food must be good if it’s this busy,” Cas replies.

There’s a bit of a wait before Dean can give his name to the hostess, but as soon as he says it, her head pops up and her eyes go a little wide. “Did you used to be the captain of the football team?”

There’s no way this girl has hit 20 years old yet, so he’s surprised she recognizes his name if not his face. “Guilty. Class of 2009.”

“That’s so cool. You’re like a celebrity!” she gushes. She looks at Cas and then behind him like she’s expecting somebody else to be there. “Are you on a double date? Waiting for two more?”

“No,” Dean says easily. “He’s my date.”

He was prepared for her eyes to pop out of her head a bit, but she actually handles it really well. “In that case, I hope you don’t mind me saying you have excellent taste.”

Dean smiles over at Cas. “Well, he’s taken so don’t get any ideas.”

She laughs at his joke and says, “Come with me, I’ll get you two seated right away.”

Cas nudges him as they start walking. “What about all the other people who got here before us?”

“Perks of dating a has-been football star, Cas,” Dean says with a wink, and Cas rolls his eyes but follows behind him with a hand on his lower back. 

Dean pulls out the chair for Cas, and they’re both seated at a table for two in a far away corner of the restaurant. There’s a single candle lit in the middle of the table, thick napkins rolled up with some kind of ring thing keeping them together, and two pairs of glasses already on the table.

“Your server will be over shortly,” the hostess says, handing them two menus. “I hope you enjoy your evening.”

They both thank her, and they’re left alone to peruse the menu. His jaw drops a little when he sees the prices, but it’s not as if he splurges like this regularly on dates, and it’s exactly the kind of thing Cas deserves tonight of all nights, so he ignores it for now and fills his glass with water from the small pitcher on the table.

“Dean,” Cas says in a whisper. He lifts his eyes from his glass to meet Cas’s. “This is a _ really _ expensive restaurant.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean tells him. “You deserve something nice.”

“We could go somewhere else,” Cas suggests. “I would be just as happy with the pizza place we used to go to all the time.”

“Just let me do this for you, okay?” Dean asks softly.

Cas sounds unsure, but he says, “If you insist.”

“Want some water?” Dean asks.

Cas hesitates for a second, but hands over his glass for Dean to fill. Their waitress comes over only a minute later, a woman older than them by the looks of her, and asks for their drink orders.

“Do you like wine?” Cas asks him. 

He doesn’t, but he wants to impress Cas tonight and show him how good things could be if he decided to move back, so he lies and says he does. “Sure, why not.”

“Any suggestions?” Cas asks the waitress.

“I’ve heard the Lambrusco is quite good.”

“Alright, let’s go with that then,” Dean says for Cas. “Bring a bottle.”

“Um, are you sure?” Cas asks him quietly.

“Why, do you not like that one?” he wonders, feeling weird now that Cas has second-guessed him.

“No, not really.” Cas looks down at the menu again somewhat awkwardly, eyeing him all weird over it. “How would you feel about the Cabernet instead?”

“Fine with me,” Dean agrees with a shrug.

“As you wish. I’ll be right back with the bottle,” the waitress says.

As soon as she leaves, Cas starts snickering under his breath and looking at Dean conspiratorially. “Can you believe she suggested a sweet effervescent red to go with steak?”

“Is that like a wine faux-pas?” Dean checks, completely clueless.

“Anybody who knows anything about wine knows not to pair those together. She must be new here. My dad’s gonna get a laugh out of this when I tell him,” Cas says, still chuckling. “I guess you’re not a big wine drinker, huh?”

Dean shrugs, feeling embarrassed. “I have it every now and then.”

“Well this one’s great, so I hope you like it.” Dean nods, and Cas launches into a story about a wine tasting tour he went on with his parents the last time he vacationed with them. The more Cas keeps talking, the more he talks about a whole bunch of shit Dean doesn’t know a thing about, and as much as he was curious about what Cas has been filling his time with over the last decade, hearing about wineries and all the different types of fancy cheeses they had at them has Dean starting to feel like some small town hick who doesn’t know anything about anything.

He nods along and adds comments whenever he can, but by the time the waiter comes with their wine, he’s glad to have the opportunity to change the subject.

Right until she says, “Oh. You used your wine glasses for your water. I’ll just get you a couple new glasses.”

Considering Cas knew not to pair a certain kind of wine with dinner, he had to have known Dean chose the wrong glass, and he can feel his face flaming with the intensity of his blush. He’s supposed to be trying to impress Cas, and here he is making an idiot move like that. He’s mortified. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks Cas in a hushed voice.

“About what?”

“That I fucked up and used the wrong glass for our water,” Dean says.

“Because it doesn’t matter. It’s just a glass,” Cas says kindly. “I knew they’d bring us more wine glasses.”

“I feel like an idiot,” he says under his breath. 

“Please don’t. It’s really not a big deal,” Cas reassures him. “I’m having a great time so far.”

When the waitress comes back with their new glasses, Cas pours the wine. They both order steak, but Cas goes for a salad instead of a baked potato like him, and then they’re left alone again, this time in a heavy silence he’s too busy brooding through to attempt to fix. 

He knows using the wrong glasses is a stupid thing to focus on when they’re at such a nice place and Cas is the hottest person in the room, but it’s all he can think about. 

He finally takes a sip of his wine for something to do, and he clearly doesn’t hide the way it tastes like battery acid as well as he’d hoped, because Cas _tsks_ under his breath. “Not a fan, huh?”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had,” he lies. 

“Maybe you’d enjoy a beer instead?”

“No, I’m fine,” Dean insists, taking another sip of swamp water to try to prove his point. Wanting to fill the silence again, he asks, “Have you traveled anywhere other than vineyards?”

“Oh, all over the place. I love to travel. Exploring new places on my own is one of my favorite things to do.”

“Where’s your favorite place to go?” he wonders.

And that’s enough to get Cas going again, talking about everywhere from Hawaii to Mexico to Paris and Belize, describing food and drinks and cities and even _ countries _ that Dean’s never heard of. He’s an excellent story-teller, and when Dean isn’t too busy thinking about how lame his life is in comparison to Cas’s, he loves seeing his eyes light up and his smile flash bright and often. 

“Do you travel at all?” Cas asks.

“Nah.” He tries to shrug it off but when Cas doesn’t say anything else, he rambles. “I’ve got the summers off mostly, but I don’t know. Mom and Sam are here, my house is here, and I guess I never really had the urge to go anywhere.”

“You’ve never thought about spending a week on the beach with your toes in the sand and unlimited drinks with those little umbrellas in them?” Cas prompts him.

“I mean, it sounds nice enough, but I’ve never had anybody to go with.”

“Maybe we can do that someday,” Cas offers. “I’d love to see the look on your face when you try snorkeling or zip-lining for the first time.”

Dean shakes his head at the very idea. “If you ever managed to get me on a plane, I can almost guarantee zip-lining wouldn’t happen after that.”

“Oh right,” Cas says, chuckling now. “I forgot about your fear of heights.”

“Fear of _ falling _ from great heights,” Dean corrects.

“I can see why vacationing like that might be difficult for you.”

“You know, it’s kinda funny,” he says, though the uncomfortable twisting feeling in his stomach is proof that it’s not actually funny at all. “On the way here I was thinking about how nice it was to have you in my car again. Thought it might be fun to go on a road trip or something, just the two of us. Drive wherever we want, stop whenever we want, sleep in those cheap roadside motels and eat at drive-thrus and diners along the way.”

Cas is smiling softly, his eyes trained on him like he’s the most interesting thing in the world, but he doesn’t buy it the same way he would have before this date.

“And then I come here and you start talking about wineries and eating French pastries in Paris and it just kinda hit me how different our ideal vacations are. I probably sound like a hick or something talking about road tripping like that after you’ve been on a gondola in Venice.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Cas says seriously. “Just because I’ve been to Venice doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy days on end sitting by your side in the Impala. You know how much I’ve always loved your car.”

“Yeah,” he says, more to say something than because he agrees with him. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Cas at all, but he has more reason to doubt him after hearing all about his other fancy trips now. “How’s the steak?” he asks, very aware of how it sounds like he’s changing the subject as purposely as he is.

“It’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had, although a lot of that is probably because of the company. Thanks for bringing me here even though it isn’t your type of place.”

_It isn't your type of place. _ Guess it’s every bit as obvious that he doesn’t belong here as it feels. 

He and Cas lapse into another silence after that, and Dean doesn’t even have it in him to try to fill it. Instead, he refills his wine glass and takes several big gulps of the foul tasting liquid before he settles in to finish his fifty dollar steak, so stuck in his own negative thoughts he barely even responds to Cas when he keeps trying to cheer him up and draw him into conversation.

The truth is, he’s already decided there’s no freaking point, because the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he’s never going to be able to make Cas happy. Not if Cas wants to travel all over the world and drink wine and eat fancy cheese. He’s happy enough to suffer through a meal in a place like this every now and then for somebody he loves, but if Cas wants all that other stuff, he’s never going to be able to give it to him no matter how hard he tries.

Honestly, he was stupid to even let himself believe he’d be good enough for anybody, let alone somebody as awesome as Cas. He’s got ten years of terrible dating history that should’ve taught him he’s only enough for people if they’re interested in a quick fuck or five minutes of small-town fame and nothing more. Surprise, surprise, Dean’s boring life isn’t enough for somebody else. Breaking news there. 

And yet, even _ after _ ten fucking years of this shit, Cas comes back for 24 hours and he somehow let himself believe they could live happily ever after like a goddamn idiot.

He declines dessert and pays for the full bill despite Cas offering to split it, and then he’s leading the way out of this disaster of a date with Cas hot on his heels and a dark cloud of disappointment mixed with self loathing hanging over him. 

Cas’s arm slips around his waist and he leans in to kiss Dean’s cheek as they walk through the parking lot, surprising him enough that he's in shock for several seconds afterwards. Hasn’t Cas noticed that they’re completely incompatible outside of the bedroom?

“Has anybody ever told you you’re cute when you’re being a stubborn jerk?” Cas asks him.

A comment like that is enough to have him turning to look at Cas. “How am I being a stubborn jerk?”

But apparently Cas got exactly what he wanted, because he holds Dean’s car keys up between them with a big smile on his face. _ That’s _ why he put his arm around him. “Get in the car, I’m driving.”

“The hell you are,” Dean disagrees. “Nobody drives my baby but me.”

“Guess you’re walking home then,” Cas says, completely undeterred as he unlocks the driver’s side door. Part of him admires Cas for the balls, but the other part wants to punch him. It’s the ‘punch him’ part that wins.

“Cas, come on. I’m serious. I don’t like other people driving my car.”

Cas’s bottom lip sticks out a bit in a pout, and when he flicks his eyes up to Dean’s they’re all wide and sad, melting him at his core and reminding him how he hasn’t figured out how to say no to that exact look yet. “Please? I promise I’ll be careful. I’ve always wanted to drive her and you never let me before. Please, Dean?”

Screw Cas and his stupidly blue eyes. “Fucking fine,” he grumbles, walking around to the other side of the car and slamming his door shut behind him. Stupid cute son of a bitch.

To his credit, Cas checks all the mirrors and backs out of the parking spot perfectly, and Dean forgets about his anger long enough to admire Cas behind the wheel of his Impala. If he looks anything like Cas does—confident, sure of himself, and plain _ manly _—when he drives, he totally gets why Cas used to get inappropriate boners as a teenager. He can feel desire zinging through him now and he’s damn near thirty.

He’s so busy staring at Cas and taking in his flawless profile (seriously, how does he look every bit as good from the side as he does from the front? Or the back?) that he doesn’t realize Cas isn’t steering them towards his house until he pulls into the ice cream parlor. The same one they used to go to with Sam a couple times a week when they were kids. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

“I wanted dessert and you sent the waitress away,” Cas declares, causing a sinking sensation in his stomach. That’s just fucking perfect. A hundred and fifty bucks on dinner and Cas isn’t even full. “Don’t get me wrong. The food was delicious, and I enjoyed it very much, but I always have a craving for something sweet after a big meal like that.” Dean almost leaps out of his seat when Cas’s hand lands on his knee. It feels like it’s been ages since they’ve touched. “You don’t mind if I get some ice cream, do you?”

“No,” he says, his voice soft with the unsaid apology. “Of course not. Sorry you didn’t get enough to eat.”

“I did,” Cas promises, squeezing his knee. “I just had a craving for a little top up. Will you come in with me?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Dean says begrudgingly. Because of his mopey, sloth pace, Cas beats him around the car, and he’s forced to pause mid-step when Cas starts pushing his own blazer off of his shoulders and tosses it in the car without even asking him. He stands there stunned stupid, watching Cas loosen his tie, throw it in there with his blazer, tug his shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants and pop a few buttons at the collar. Cas runs his hands through his hair, messing it up more like it was the night before and all day today, and then sighs with relief. 

“There,” Cas smiles shyly. “Much better. Better for you?”

Dean can’t help the way his lips quirk in response. “Little better, yeah.”

Then Cas really smiles, slides their fingers together, and they walk into the ice cream parlor. Missouri Mosley looks up from behind the counter where she’s been seven days a week for as far back as he can remember, and he doesn’t miss the way her mouth pops open at the sight of either Cas, the two of them together, or the fact that they’re holding hands.

“Castiel Novak,” she says, sure as anything.

Cas’s jaw drops and his eyes light up, a soft laugh coming out from between his lips. “Miss Mosley! You haven’t aged a day!”

“You walk in here for the first time in ten years and the first words outta that mouth of yours is a lie, son?”

“No, ma’am,” Cas says, his voice resolute. “I feel like I went back in time. Not a new wrinkle on that beautiful face of yours.”

“Don’t you go flirtin’ with me when your heart belongs to another,” she says, one hand on her hip now. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Cas replies, smiling wide at Dean and making an answering smile appear on his face without his permission. 

“You two boys in here for the usual?”

He can’t help but snort with laughter. “We haven’t come in together in a decade and we still have a usual?”

“My hips and my knees might be giving me some trouble these days, but my mind’s still as sharp as a tack,” she insists. “Banana split, extra nuts, two spoons.”

“You’re too good to us, Miss Mosley,” Cas says, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“What’d I just tell you, boy?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Cas laughs and leans closer to Dean. 

Because just being again here feels like the real them instead of some stupid fancy version where he’s the underdog, he wraps his arm around Cas and feels some of the tension bleed out of his best friend when his shoulders relax at the contact. They turn towards each other naturally, and like there’s some invisible force dragging them together, their lips meet in a chaste kiss. That makes the tension bleed out of _ him, _ and he’s leaning in for another kiss when Missouri interrupts him. 

“Hey, now, none of that in here. I kick teenagers out of here every day for getting fresh in these booths, don’t think I’m gonna make an exception for you two pretty boys just because it took you ten years to get here.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks her.

She lets out what sounds like, “Puh! This one’s been lookin’ at you like a love sick puppy since I’ve had eyes,” she says, gesturing to Cas with the ice cream scoop. “Just because you didn’t wanna see it back then doesn’t mean the rest of us missed it.”

“Aw, you were a love sick puppy for me, Cas?” Dean teases.

“You wish,” Cas tosses back, making him laugh.

“Don’t let it bother you, blue eyes. I ain’t seen a smile on his freckled face like this since you walked out on him ten years ago.” Dean flushes over how _ everybody _ keeps saying that but she just keeps on talking. “Always thought he might be waiting for you to come back to him, sugar.” They both stay quiet after that, sharing shy smiles between them in the silence until Missouri places the ice cream bowl in front of them. “This one’s on the house, boys, for old time’s sake.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Dean tries.

“You ever see me do somethin’ I don’t want to do?” she challenges with her eyebrows raised.

“No, ma’am,” Dean drawls, reaching out to pick up the bowl in front of him with the two silver spoons sticking out of it, shooting her the most charming get-out-of-trouble smile he can muster up.

She shakes her head at him like she’s got his number, and he really should’ve known then that she was about to get the last word. “I’ll take my repayment in the form of a wedding invitation when the day comes.”

He damn near drops the bowl, turning as red as he’s ever been in a heartbeat, and Missouri’s booming laughter echoes through the tiny ice cream parlor and accompanies them right until he and Cas slide into their old favorite booth side-by-side.

“Well, when it comes to an ice breaker, you couldn’t ask for one much more uncomfortable than that,” Cas says, making Dean laugh a little. “At least you don’t look like your evil twin anymore, though.”

“Evil twin?” Dean repeats.

“Yeah, you know. The version of you that was sitting at the steakhouse thinking that you’d never be good enough for me just because you used the wrong water glass.” Being called out like that, especially given how scarily right Cas is, steals his ability to respond, so he pretends to check out their ice cream instead. “Why in the world you thought you had to have wine in the first place when you obviously don’t like is the part I can’t figure out.”

“Oh shut up,” Dean says petulantly, his earlier sour mood coming back to him quickly.

Cas grabs a spoon and takes his first bite (of mostly whipped cream, Dean notices). He speaks with it still rolling around in his mouth. “I considered the idea that you might be trying to impress me, but for the life of me, I can’t understand why _ Dean Winchester _ would feel like he has to impress the guy he used to talk to while he was taking a shit. With the door open.”

Unbelievably embarrassed but not willing to take that without a comeback, he says, “Oh, you wanna go there, huh? How many times did your ass force me out of my own fucking room, Gassy Cassy?”

“I’m sure it’ll happen again tonight after all that meat,” Cas says, making him laugh despite himself. In fact, once their eyes catch, all the times they had fart wars and trapped each other under the blankets with their raunchy smelling gas starts coming back to him, and he can’t _ stop _ laughing. He laughs until he has tears in his eyes, and even then, Cas laughing so hard he isn’t making any sounds at all causes him to keep laughing.

Only when his stomach is sore and he can finally breathe again does he manage to take a bite of their banana split. “Jesus, we were disgusting.”

“We were boys,” Cas says with a shrug. “My point is, I know how gross you can be, how terrible you can smell, what you look like after barfing your guts out, and probably most relevant right now, how you’re your own worst critic.” Cas’s voice goes from light to serious between one sentence and the next. “I didn’t say anything about the water glass because I didn’t want you to start berating yourself the way you always do every time you make an innocent mistake.” He doesn’t know what to say to that, but apparently that’s a good thing because Cas isn’t done yet. “What I really still want to know is why you ordered wine if you don’t like it?”

“You like it,” Dean says simply.

“I do like it. But you can still like beer even if I like wine.”

“Was a fancy place,” Dean explains. Then, because it’s Cas, he admits, “And I kinda felt like a loser for ordering a beer when you wanted wine.”

“A loser for liking beer?” Cas repeats, clearly not getting it. “We both drank beer last night, and I’m sure you remember I liked you just fine then.”

“That’s not the same thing. It wasn’t a fancy place.”

“So why did you want to bring me to a fancy place if you didn’t think you could be yourself there?”

“Oh,” Dean laughs dryly, feeling suddenly backed into a corner. “Now I can’t take you someplace nice? I’m such a fuck up that I can’t even take you to a nice restaurant without you thinking it’s—it’s out of character for me or something?”

“What _ was _ out of character was you ignoring me to the extent that you didn’t even answer me when I was talking to you,” Cas shoots back. “If that’s the version of you I have to put up with to go someplace fancy, quite frankly, I’d rather stay home.”

“Well, sorry I’m such a disappointment,” he says bitterly. 

Cas sighs heavily. “Do you really lack self awareness to the point that you have no idea I’m literally telling you that you—the _ real you—_is already so perfect for me that I don’t want you to pretend to be anything else?” Dean’s stunned silent, because yeah, if that’s what Cas was just trying to say then he definitely wasn’t getting it. “I know who you are, Dean, better than anybody else you’ve ever dated. There’s no need to try to impress me because I fell in love with the real you ages ago. The only way you could possibly disappoint me is by being something you’re not, which, oddly enough, was exactly what you did at the steakhouse tonight. So even though your apology is coming from a very different place than where I want it to, I accept it nonetheless.”

Cas shuts up after that little speech, and he’s kind of glad for it because he sure as hell gave him a lot to think about. They work their way through their banana split silently. Cas leaves the cherry for Dean the way he always did when they were younger, he leaves most of the banana for Cas, and they each eat their own scoop of ice cream. 

It isn’t until Cas places his hand on his knee again and caresses it gently that he remembers that Cas didn’t say anything about wanting to leave or not dating anymore even though he was an asshole tonight. In fact, Cas is the one who brought him here wanting to spend more time with him even _ after _ a terrible date instead of just bailing on him and calling off this whole thing between them. Cas also kinda tore him a new one, but it’s not like he didn’t deserve it. Hell, maybe that’s what he needed. He’s starting to feel like shit about it, and he figures the least he can do to try to make up for everything is to at least _ attempt _ to talk to Cas about why he was freaking out so much. 

He looks straight down at the melting ice cream in the bottom of the bowl, and his voice is quiet and unsure when he starts talking. He _ hates _ talking about this kind of thing, but he forces it out anyway for Cas. “I really wanted to take you somewhere nice to sweep you off your feet, you know? You’re the only person I’ve dated in forever that actually likes me for me instead of what I look like or the small town hero that I am, and I wanted to show you how good it could be between us if you decided to stay.”

He shakes his head bitterly over how great that turned out.

“But then you started talking about all these places you’ve been, all the things you’ve done in your life since we saw each other, and I felt like...” He stops to take a breath, to force himself to talk about this shit _ because _it’s Cas and he knows Cas will understand. “Like I was this ignorant nobody who’s never even been out of the country. You were rattling off names of places I’ve never even heard of and I couldn’t stop thinking that if that’s the kinda thing that makes you happy then I’m never gonna cut it for you, and it—it pissed me off and really fucking hurt,” he admits quietly.

There’s a long beat of silence that has him considering hiding under the table or maybe just locking himself in his car so he doesn’t have to hear the pity that’s about to come from Cas. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Cas says, stopping his thoughts in their tracks and making his heart start thumping wildly in his chest. “You never even gave me a chance to tell you how wrong you were, you just sat there and decided _ for me _ that you aren’t good enough for me. Don’t I get a say in that?” he questions.

“Seemed pretty obvious. I thought if I was thinkin’ it, you probably were, too. I figured you were sitting there the whole time wondering how you got roped into staying the night with a dumbass like me.”

“You _ are _ a dumbass,” Cas confirms, “but only because you never gave me the chance to tell you I would trade any of those experiences in any of those places with another night with you like last night.”

Dean blinks, his brain completely unable to make sense of that. “What?”

“Prague, Paris, Belize, Hawaii. I would trade _ any _ of that for a night like we had last night in a heartbeat. I’d even trade some of them for those two minutes I had my best friend back when we were talking to Missouri.”

“But why?” Dean blurts.

“Because being with you makes me happier than any of that other stuff did.”

Dean frowns as he tries to understand. “But you were lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when you were talking about travelling.”

Cas snorts softly as he scrapes the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. “I thought you said I look at you like you raise the sun?” he points out, looking at him sideways from the corner of his eyes. He draws Dean into lifting his own head to make eye contact again. “You don’t think those two things are comparable?”

Charlie did say that. Sam said that. Hell, even Missouri said that when they walked in here. He swallows his last bite of ice cream and lets the cool liquid soothe his dry throat.

“Guess maybe I am an idiot.”

Cas knocks into his shoulder affectionately. “Guess it’s a good thing I already knew that.”

Feeling significantly better now after hearing that Cas still likes him even when he’s being stupid, he jokes, “Why do you even like me?”

“Hell if I know, but if I haven’t been able to shake it yet, I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

“Good,” Dean says immediately. “‘Cause remember that thing we were tabling from before?”

“I have a vague recollection, but you might have to remind me.”

He smiles and shakes his head fondly at Cas’s gentle teasing, looking down at the empty ice cream dish to gather his courage. “I know I can be an asshole and I was a total idiot tonight, but it’s only because—” His leg jiggles nervously as he realizes he might need another second. He takes one more deep breath and then lets it out in a rush. “Because I’m an idiot in love.”

Cas squeezes his knee and Dean covers his hand with his, then Cas leans in so his forehead is resting on Dean’s temple, and they just sit there together for a few minutes in a comfortable silence. He feels like his heart is beating a mile a minute, but he can tell just by the way Cas initiated being closer to him physically that he’s happy about what he just said, and now that he thinks about it, he’s feeling pretty good himself. Really good, actually.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Cas replies quietly, in almost a whisper, making Dean feel like he’s melting from the inside out. “I’m about to propose to Missouri for this banana split myself.” 

Dean loses a single second to confusion, but then he pushes Cas hard enough that his shoulder hits the wall. “I meant I’m in love _ with you, _ you cocky asshole.”

Cas laughs with his head thrown back and his nose scrunched up with his gums showing, and Dean’s heart is doing the Grinch thing all over again. Fuck him for being this adorable and knowing exactly how to make sure he’s not taking himself too seriously. “I’m in love with _ you, _ Cas,” Dean says, more sure than ever now. “I think I might’ve even loved you all along; I don’t know if I’ll ever know for sure. But all it took was one night for me to know I’m in love with you now, as batshit crazy as that is.”

“I could do with some batshit crazy in my life,” Cas responds. “And I know you know this already, but I’m in love with you too, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean looks over his shoulder to where Missouri is watching them without apology, and he stage whispers in Cas’s direction. “I’m not dumb enough to fight Missouri for you, though.”

“I heard that,” she says from the counter. “And you’re smarter than you look, because I would crush you like a bug for a piece of that boy if I was 20 years younger and had the right parts.” 

That sends them both into another fit of laughter, and when Cas tosses him his keys back once they’re in the parking lot and he drives home with one hand on the steering wheel and the other around Cas’s shoulder, he’s more sure than ever that Cas is exactly what he wants for the rest of his life.


	7. Chapter 7

They barely make it out of the Impala and through the front door before their clothes start hitting the floor. Dean vehemently curses the buttons on Castiel’s dress shirt while he seals his mouth over Dean’s perky nipples and backs him against the wall. 

“I can’t—” Dean’s words are cut off by a groan when Castiel rubs over his erection with his palm. “Fucking _ think _ when you do that,” Dean pants.

Castiel takes mercy on him and kisses back up to his neck instead, greedily inhaling the fruity scent of his body wash with each breath. Dean finally manages to get his buttons undone enough to tug his shirt over his head, and they both groan at the first press of skin against skin. 

“Jesus, Dean,” Castiel breathes. “How do I want you this bad again already?”

“Dunno,” Dean says, his hands grabbing ahold of Castiel’s ass and dragging their groins together to grind hard and dirty. “But we need to concentrate on—shit—on getting our clothes off before I come in my fucking underwear.”

He pulls away from Dean’s neck with a wet sound of suction. “Underwear?” he asks curiously. Then he grins as a funny thought occurs to him. “Are you wearing tighty whities?” 

Dean’s shoulders are heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and he looks like he’s stuck somewhere between embarrassed and determined. “You said you like me exactly the way I am, right?”

He chuckles and swoops in to catch those pouty lips with his own. “I don’t care if you like wearing briefs,” he says between kisses, his hands working their way down Dean’s chiseled chest to pull down his zipper to prove it to him. Where he expects to see white or black or maybe even blue poking out from Dean’s fly, he stops, slack-jawed when he sees _ pink. _

Pink _ satin. _

Inexplicably, arousal strikes him like lightning and he falls to his knees as he pushes Dean’s jeans down and out of the way to get a better look. His breath is caught somewhere in between his lungs and his mouth, and his eyes are bugging out of his head because _ Dean Winchester _ is wearing bikini cut, pink, satin _ panties _ with a white bow on the elastic band. His already slim hips look dainty clothed like this, showcasing his full erection where it’s barely contained within the tiny scrap of fabric, already leaking as evidenced by the dark patches on the expensive looking material. 

He’s never been so turned on by anything in his entire life as he is by those smears of precum on Dean’s panties and he’s completely at a loss for what to do next, but he absolutely _ cannot _ tear his eyes away. 

“You keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re not gonna make it to the bedroom,” Dean rasps.

That shakes him out of it. He slides his hands up Dean’s muscular thighs and carefully brushes his thumbs over the satin on either side of Dean’s cock, simultaneously marveling over how hard he is and how smooth the material is. Just that drags another breathless, “Fuck,” from the bigger man standing in front of him. 

“You wear women’s underwear,” Castiel states.

“Y-yeah,” Dean stutters. “Sometimes.”

Castiel looks away from Dean’s panties for the first time since he spotted them to look up at his face. He’s flushed darker than he’s ever seen his face before, looking scared shitless and like he’s going to blow his load any second. 

“You look stunning in them.”

Dean’s eyes slam closed and a shaky, “F-fuck. Really?” slips out of his lips.

“I never thought I’d see you in anything as sexy as those football pants—” Dean huffs out a laugh and Castiel is smiling when he trails his hand up to drag one finger over Dean’s erection as he gets back to his feet. “—but I was very, very wrong.”

“You swear you like ‘em?” Dean asks, already pushing his dick into Castiel’s waiting hand.

“I swear. You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he declares. “And I would be more than happy to fuck you wearing only these to prove it to you if you need me to.”

Dean’s chest is still heaving while he ruts against his hand, and Castiel can see the way he’s chewing on the inside of his lip, letting him know he’s nervous about something. Castiel waits him out, leaning in and just letting his lips graze his skin beneath his ear as he nuzzles into him with his nose. 

“You want me to?” Dean asks quietly. _Nervously_ even, which is odd. Maybe Dean still doesn’t believe him?

“I would like that very much,” Castiel responds, closing his teeth around his earlobe to scrape them carefully along his soft flesh.

“So... saying yes would make me good, right, Cas?”

Hearing Dean say those words has his cock twitching in his pants, because now he thinks he gets it. “You’d be so good for me, sweetheart.”

_ “Fuck,” _ Dean curses fervently. “Why’s it so hot when you say that?”

Forgetting the fact that Dean is currently rutting into his hand, what he really needs right now is some friction on his own cock, and so he steps between Dean’s legs and lines up their pelvises. His dress pants and boxers press hard both against his own erection and the soft fabric cradling Dean’s cock, and from the very first dry thrust, he feels sparks shoot down his spine to start a fire low in his groin.

Dean lets out a high-pitched, _ “Ah! _ Oh fuck, Cas.”

And then their lips are crashing together almost violently. Lips and teeth and tongues all tangle together in a delicious ride he never wants to stop. Their chests bump, the firmness of Dean’s pecs and stiff nipples brushing against his. Dean’s hands grope at his back and ass, wandering, grasping, squeezing, moving him harder and faster against him again and again.

Dean wrenches his lips away, still clinging to him and kissing along his neck now. “Cas,” he says, his lips still moving across his skin. “I think—you’re, uh—underestimating how g-good satin feels on my dick.”

“Isn’t feeling good the point?”

“I wanna feel really good while you fuck me, though,” Dean suggests.

“Sounds good to me.” He grabs Dean by his hips and spins him around so he’s facing the wall, propping his truly delectable ass out and lowering his own fly as he stares it at greedily. He pushes down his dress pants and boxers, stepping out of them and pressing his bare cock against Dean’s satin-clad cheeks. “Jesus fuck,” he breathes, the smooth glide of his cockhead on the fine fabric sending goosebumps across his skin. He leans in to mouth at that spot beneath Dean’s ear again, riding his ass crack, whispering, “You may be onto something here.”

“Y-you like it?”

“It feels almost as good as you,” he replies. Then, taking a chance, he adds, “And you’re always so good, Dean.”

Dean _ whines. _ “I wanna be good—f-for you. Please, Cas. Want you to fuck me. Right here.”

He feels like there’s molten lava running through his veins. An animalistic need is overcoming him, making him slip his fingers beneath the thin elastic band hugging Dean’s ass cheek and rubbing them dry against his opening. He inserts just the tip of his finger, feeling the give from their avid love-making the night before, and tugs gently on his rim.

“This won’t do, Dean,” Castiel tells him. “As much as I would love to fuck your luscious ass until you come all over the wall in front of you, I won’t do it at the risk of hurting you.”

“I can take it, Cas, I swear. I—I can be good.”

“Oh, Dean.” He turns him back around and cups his face, kissing him with all of the tenderness he can muster when he feels like he’s moments away from fucking the man he loves ruthless and raw against the wall. “You’re perfect, I promise you. And you said something earlier about wanting us to break in your bed anyway, didn’t you?”

Dean’s plump lips stretch into a smile. “Yeah, I did. Think we can actually break it?” he taunts him.

“We can give it a shot.”

And then he starts pulling Dean away from the wall, walking backwards blindly with their lips reconnected, dicks bobbing and knocking together, hands in hair, on backs, tailbones, and ass cheeks until he catches his shoulder _ hard _ on the door jam of Dean’s bedroom and curses a blue streak.

Dean tries and fails to hide his laughter, stifling it while he spins Castiel around and presses a chaste kiss to the tender spot. “At least we almost got all our clothes off this time.”

Castiel chuckles despite the pain in his shoulder. “Why is it so difficult to get you into bed naked?”

“Thought you wanted to keep me in these,” Dean points out, stepping around him again and gesturing to his panties.

“Naked is overrated anyway,” Castiel says, so incredibly aroused by gazing at Dean standing there with his hands on his trim hips looking like sin incarnate he can hardly speak. His voice has dropped an entire register when he says, “Get on the bed, Dean. On your hands and knees.”

Dean’s cheeks, already flushed with desire, redden even further, but it’s the gleam in his eyes that has Castiel’s hands clenching into fists. “Yes, sir,” he smirks, and sweet mother of god, his best friend is going to kill him.

He doesn’t dare look at what he knows will greet him once Dean gets situated on his bed, and instead, he walks directly to Dean’s nightstand where he assumes he’ll find what he’s looking for, and sure enough, he finds lube and condoms. He keeps his back to Dean and puts the condom on before he forgets like he almost did before, and only then does he turn to take in the sight of the man he loves on all fours, ass up, _ in pink panties. _

“If you could see yourself, Dean,” Castiel says quietly, reverently, spreading lube onto his fingers. “You don’t know how absolutely stunning you look like this.” He climbs up on the bed behind him, curving himself over Dean’s sculpted back and kissing the curve of his neck. He has to swallow a moan when his cock grazes the softness of Dean’s panties. “There’s not a man or woman alive who wouldn’t fall to their knees and beg for a chance to see you like this.”

Dean lets his chin dip and his head hang. “Only want you,” he says quietly. 

“You have me,” Castiel promises, kissing where his neck is bent. “You’ve always had me.”

Castiel palms up and down his flank, peppering kisses along his shoulder and neck until his fingers find their target. He pulls Dean’s panties to the side, eliciting a sharp gasp from Dean, probably because the material is pulling tighter against his skin and his cock. He rubs his fingers over him in a circular motion just to tease him, but when Dean pushes back against him needily, he doesn’t have the will power to hold back. He starts with a single finger to make sure he doesn’t hurt him, and when it slips inside easily like he thought it would, he hums his contentment into Dean’s skin while he adds a second and starts easing the way for his cock. “Love how you open for me.”

“I want you,” Dean says, his breath shaky.

“Are you still sore?” Castiel checks.

“J-just a little tender. ‘m good though, I swear.”

Castiel pauses, his love for Dean overpowering the lust that’s still coursing through him so fiercely. “And you wouldn’t put me in a position where I was unknowingly forced into hurting you against my will, would you?”

“No.” Dean’s voice is sure and steady, and he believes him. “I’d tell you.”

He withdraws his fingers to hold Dean’s panties out of the way and positions himself between Dean’s legs, letting his cockhead kiss his hole. He knows just from the steady thrum of arousal under his skin that this is not going to be a soft and sweet lovemaking experience for either of them, but before they lose themselves to pleasure, he wants Dean to know that it’s still more than just sex for him.

“Dean?” Dean looks over his shoulder at the questioning tone of his voice, and Castiel smiles softly and says, “You know this isn’t just sex, right?”

The shy, surprised smile that spreads on Dean’s face is without a doubt the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “I know, Cas. Now fuck me in my panties already.”

“Such a needy bottom,” Castiel teases, but he gets up to his knees, gets a good grip on Dean’s hip, and with one smooth thrust, he’s halfway inside of Dean and there’s no room for jokes because it’s already unbearably tight. “Fuck,” he bites out. “It’s tight. Too tight. Are you okay? Do you need—”

“Cas I swear to god,” Dean complains.

He laughs quietly at Dean’s insistence and backs up a little bit to push back into his tight heat, this time continuing forward until he bottoms out. Dean’s back muscles are taut with tension and he has an unobstructed view of the broad width of his shoulders tapering down to his tiny waist where his own hips are currently flush with one satin covered ass cheek. 

“You have no idea how unbelievable you look like this,” he tells Dean. He moves his free hand over Dean’s body while he praises him. “Your shoulders, your back, your arms holding yourself up, and god, Dean, your hips and ass.” He gets a handful of his bare cheek, eyes glued to the supple flesh being squeezed by his hand. “Your body is every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had come to life.”

“Thought you fantasized about those football pants?” Dean asks, looking over his shoulder. He grinds his hips against Dean’s ass, the very thought enough to cause him to forget himself, but thankfully Dean moans, letting him know he’s good. “I’m gonna take that as a yes, you perv.”

“I did,” Castiel admits through clenched teeth. “I did, so many times. Dreamed about coming all over them.” 

“Fuck that’s hot,” Dean responds, his voice harsher now than it was a second ago.

Knowing that Dean’s into it has him pulling out and thrusting back in, more gently at first than he wants to, his fingers really digging into Dean’s hip to keep himself from unintentionally hurting the man he loves. “I thought about pulling your cock out of those tight little pants and choking on it because I was so eager to taste you.” He thrusts again, harder this time, snapping his hips when Dean gives him the go ahead by rocking back against him. “God, if you knew how many times I jerked off remembering exactly how hot you were all sweaty and dirty after a game.” Logically he knows it was gross and Dean always smelled terrible, but jesus, it was so _ raw _ and _ masculine _ that he used to get hard just thinking about it.

“There’s—there’s a staff versus student game every year,” Dean says, lowering himself to his elbows, tightening around him as he does. “I still play.”

It’s perfectly clear what Dean’s telling him, and the idea of bending Dean over exactly like this with those little football pants pulled down just enough for Cas to fuck him senseless makes his blood boil. 

“In the locker room,” Castiel says, continuing his sexual fantasy aloud.

“I got a—_fuck_—a key.”

He pounds into him again and again in quick, shallow thrusts, mindlessly enjoying the incredible friction while he thinks about Dean’s face smashed into a locker because he’s giving it to him so good. Castiel drives into him, gets a handful of the asscheek still covered in satin and squeezes, pushing the malleable flesh up and over so that he can see the way his thick cock is disappearing into Dean’s hole over and over, biting his lip as he watches the furled skin stretch and give around his girth. The sheen of the soft pink fabric keeps drawing his gaze, so different and exciting that he feels a thrill each time he looks at it, thinking about how lucky he is to be fucking a man this gorgeous wearing something so completely feminine and still exuding a relentless, masculine confidence that he wants to devour increasingly more with every thrust. 

Dean is struggling to stay upright with the force of his thrusts, so his hands settle onto the slight hips he’s becoming weirdly fixated on, and he holds Dean in place while he starts fucking into him harder and deeper. Dean calls out, he rocks back again, searching for more, and Castiel is slack jawed with the gravity of his pleasure. “Back that ass up for me, Dean.” Dean complies eagerly, meeting him halfway for the next thrust that has his hips slapping against his ass. “Just like that, sweetheart. You’re so good for me.”

“Y-yes,” Dean exhales shakily, sounding proud and every bit as wrecked as he feels. 

Dean’s obvious drive to please him cranks his arousal up to another impossible notch he didn’t even know existed, and the familiar heat gathering low in his groin is rapid but so incredibly enticing he doesn’t have it in him to try to fight it. Instead, he increases his pace even further, slamming into Dean’s tight hole in a ferocious, unrelenting rhythm that punches whines and moans from his lover’s mouth.

Castiel hungrily watches the myriad of muscles in Dean’s back flex and move with each coordinated roll of their hips as the heat builds. Dean’s back is glistening with sweat now, his own muscles are tightening and tensing as he barrels head-first into what he already knows is going to be a mind-blowing orgasm, and he’s so, so close. Close enough that he can feel the tantalizing promise of his impending pleasure, making him thrust even harder, deeper, rougher, as he chases his orgasm blindly. 

Completely unable to form words to warn Dean, he does the only thing he can think of doing and wraps his arms around his middle, hauling him up against his body. Dean’s head falls back on his shoulder, so with one arm slung around his abdomen holding him in place, his other finds Dean’s cock through his panties and runs his hand over his length. Dean gets on board quickly, switching between pushing back against him and fucking up against his fist, the smooth glide of Dean’s cock against his palm absolutely exquisite.

“Holy fuck,” Dean gasps. “I—I’m close.”

Considering he doesn’t even have a hand on his skin, it must be from the panties. “Feels good on your cock, doesn’t it?”

“S-so good,” Dean breathes.

“So soft and smooth,” he says, tightening his grip as he kisses his way along the column of his throat. He brushes his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, feeling the material damp and sticky from where Dean is leaking into it. “You made a mess in these, didn’t you?” he teases him. To his surprise, all he gets in response is a whimper. _ Interesting. _ “Are you going to come in your panties for me, sweetheart?”

Dean nods his head, his ass clenching around him, sending him within spitting distance of his release. “Please. Please make me come.”

His groin tightens deliciously. He drills inside of Dean again and again, ruthless with it, the extra friction from the elastic band catching on his cock with every thrust and pushing him closer and closer to the edge. “You’re so good for me, Dean. I’m gonna come so fucking hard for you _ because _ you’re so good.” 

“Cas,” Dean gasps, his legs starting to shake now. “Cas, fuck.”

“Be good for me and m-make a mess in those panties for me, sweetheart.” He can hardly breathe through his words, his entire body pulled tight, trying desperately to hold on until Dean’s there with him. “I—I wanna feel your cum soaking through the satin. Wanna see you ruin those pretty panties like a good boy for me.”

Dean’s cock jumps against his hand at the same time warmth fills Castiel’s palm as Dean comes forcibly into his panties. Impossible heat surges through him at the sensation all the way down to his toes as Dean crumples forward, landing back on his elbows. Castiel repositions himself instantly to drive his aching cock into Dean’s clenching hole, only needing a handful of long, deep thrusts before he can’t take anymore and he locks up, coming _ hard _ with a roar of Dean’s name. His head is thrown back with the ungodly amount of pleasure pulsing through him, his fingernails are digging into Dean’s hips, and he keeps slamming into him as he fucks his way through the inconceivable pleasure, still thrusting even after he’s spent. The tight warmth of Dean’s ass feels _ so good _ on his sensitive cock that his overworked muscles are twitching and trembling with overstimulation when he finally has to stop because he can’t possibly take anymore.

He pulls out gently, not missing the quiet sound of pain Dean makes before he flops over onto his side, and looks around for a garbage can while he ties off the condom. 

“My side of the bed,” Dean croaks. His voice sounds dry and hoarse, and as Castiel leans over him to make sure he hits the garbage can, he gets a quick look at Dean’s panties absolutely _ soaked _ with his semen.

Hit like a fucking bus by the idea of _ him _ being the one to make a mess out of Dean’s panties some day has him feeling like a moth called to a flame. He climbs on top of Dean carefully and leans in to catch his lips in a deep kiss. He frames his freckled face, brushes his thumbs over his sweaty cheekbones, and plunders his open mouth softly. Dean spreads his legs and applies pressure to Castiel’s lower back, so he goes with it and slots himself between Dean’s bowed legs, his spent cock nestling intimately into the cum-soaked satin and drawing a low moan from Dean. 

They kiss for ages, hands exploring, bodies moving together as if they were made to. They whisper endearments whenever their lips part, kiss declarations of feelings into rosy skin and sweaty flesh, expressing all of the tenderness that was lost before in their haste, and it’s somehow sweeter for it knowing they’re only indulging themselves because they want to and not because it’s supposed to lead to anything else. 

When they finally stop, both of them are lying prone on their backs, still holding hands as if they’re unwilling to break all physical contact even though they’re both overheated. He hopes Dean feels as sated as he does. In fact, he’s satisfied both sexually and emotionally in a way he’s never experienced with a partner before. Actually... he’s never experienced this feeling before _ period. _ It’s almost overwhelming in its perfection and a part of him hopes this moment never ends.

“You know that slimy stuff we used to get in a cup when we were little? And we’d stick our hands in it to make farting noises?” Dean asks suddenly.

Caught off guard, but remembering it perfectly nonetheless, he says, “Yeah.”

“That’s what the inside of my underwear feels like right now.”

He looks over at Dean, who has a little smile on his face like he’s proud of the disgusting imagery of his joke, and his laugh comes out in a huff that turns into genuine laughter when Dean starts laughing beside him, too. 

“That’s disgusting,” Castiel says, trying to wiggle his hand away from Dean’s.

Dean just clamps down harder. “Hey! You said you love me for me! You can’t just let go the first time I’m gross.”

After a few minutes of childish hand wrestling, he finally manages to get his hand away and shoves them both under his back so Dean can’t get them back. “I can be disgusted with you and still be in love with you,” Castiel tells him.

Dean barks out a laugh, short and loud, and even as gross as he was only a few minutes ago, Castiel can’t help but think how his laughter is one of the best sounds in the world. 

“I love hearing you laugh,” he says aloud. 

“I love watching you laugh,” Dean responds. “Your laugh lines and nose crinkles and your gummy smile all combined is my kryptonite, man.”

Castiel just lies there, unable to keep a pleased smile off of his face. He’s sure he’s never felt quite so happy as he does right this second.

“I’m, uh, sorry about before,” Dean says suddenly. “I was a real dick to you at dinner and I shouldn’t have been. I’m not so good at talking about feelings and shit but I’ll try harder next time. Thanks for, you know, not thinking I was a total jerk and just bailing on me.”

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Dean gets up to clean himself up in the bathroom, and still, Castiel stays put, wondering how he’s ever going to make himself go back home to his lonely, empty apartment after sharing this weekend with Dean. Dean comes back into his bedroom and pulls out two pairs of boxers, tossing one to him and stepping into the other pair. 

“No more panties?” Castiel teases, lifting his hips to slip Dean’s boxers up and over his ass. They’re a little tight on his waist, but better than the ones he’s been wearing all day.

“Oh there’s plenty more where those came from,” Dean says with a grin. “I think my ass needs a day off though, and I’m guessing there’s no way that’s gonna happen if I put on a lacy pair.”

Castiel groans pitifully, and Dean’s almost preening when he gets on the bed, rolling onto his side with his head propped up on his hand. “Not gonna lie, I’m fuckin’ thrilled that you’re into my panty kink. Didn’t know if you would be since you’re not into women at all.”

“There is nothing feminine about how you look in women’s underwear,” Castiel points out. “If anything, the fact that they’re so blatantly feminine only makes you look more masculine in comparison. It’s incredibly sexy to see you so confident with your manliness.”

“My manliness,” Dean repeats, snickering. “Meanwhile I like ‘em ‘cause they make me feel pretty.”

A shudder runs through his body just hearing Dean say that. “Well you look very pretty in them. Or out of them,” he adds, making Dean roll his eyes.

“You know how many men have told me what pretty lips I have right before trying to push me to my knees?”

Castiel feels fury directed to those faceless men run through him like ice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to demean you in any way. I won’t say anything like that again if you don’t like it.”

“Always hated it because of that,” Dean admits. “But I don’t really mind if you like my lips or think I’m pretty, so long as you don’t comment on it while we’re in the middle of something, you know?”

“I understand. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for all of those men who treated you with so little respect.”

“Not a big deal,” Dean says, though Castiel can tell by the way he looks away that it’s a bigger deal than he wants to let on. “I think maybe that’s why I’m so into you telling me that I’m good or whatever.”

“Because it has nothing to do with how you look,” Castiel realizes.

Dean nods. “Complimenting me for my behavior, you know, or like, what I do versus what I look like. Apparently that does it for me.”

Castiel promises himself right there and then that he will compliment Dean on the unique and wonderful person he is five times as often as he tells him how attractive he is. “That makes perfect sense. And considering I find it arousing to tell you how perfect you are, that works out very well for us.”

“The whole sex thing is working out really well for us,” Dean counters. “Kinda annoyed that my ass is sore enough that we won’t be able to go again tomorrow.”

“There’s plenty of ways to have sex without your ass,” Castiel points out.

“Not the same,” Dean pouts. “I’ve heard that guys kinda get used to it if they’re in a long-term thing though, so there’s hope for us at least.”

Castiel feels warmth rush through him at Dean slipping up and referring to them as a long-term thing. “I could bottom if you want.”

Dean’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“I’ve really only done it that one time, but I’d be willing to try it again if that’s something that interests you.”

“Hell yeah it interests me,” Dean says excitedly, making Castiel laugh lightly. “I’ll make it good for you, too. Not like that dick the first time.”

Dean seems so put out on his behalf it’s endearing, and he reaches over to slot their hands together. “I’m sure you will.”

They lie there in bed for a little while, both getting lost in their own thoughts, comfortable and enjoying one another’s presence. 

“Hey, Cas?” Castiel raises his eyebrows, waiting for Dean to continue. “Y’know I’m off now ‘til the last week of August.”

“Ah, yes. Teachers get the summer off,” Castiel says, only just remembering that now. 

“And I don’t have anything planned for the week. I was just gonna bum around the house.”

Castiel tries to hide his smile, knowing exactly what Dean’s working up to now. “Oh? That sounds relaxing.”

Dean blinks. Swallows. Tries another angle. “Do you, uh, have anything planned for your week off?”

He acts like he’s thinking about it, but says, “No, nothing really until Thursday. My plans are pretty much the same as yours, just enjoying not having to go to work for a week.”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, looking away from him again. “Well I was thinkin’, since we both have the week off and we’re not doing anything...” Castiel knows perfectly well where he’s going with this, but desperately wants to hear him continue to dance around this until he’s forced to actually ask. Dean lifts his eyebrows, silently questioning if he knows what’s he’s saying, and Castiel tilts his head to the side. “You don’t really have to go home if you don’t want to.”

He nods his understanding. “I guess you’re right. Technically I could go anywhere I wanted to next week.”

“Or, if you wanted to, you could maybe stay here,” Dean finally says. “With me.”

“Stay with you?” Castiel repeats. Then, over exaggerating, he says, “Wow! I never thought of that!”

He laughs when Dean punches his shoulder. “You asshole! You knew what I was trying to say this whole time, didn’t you?”

Castiel chuckles, rubbing the dull pain with the palm of his hand. “Of course I knew what you were trying to say, I’m not stupid. You were just so cute fumbling your way through it.”

“Fuck you, you can go home now for all I care,” Dean says, rolling onto his back again. 

“No takesies backsies,” Castiel says, smiling at using the familiar comeback for the first time in a decade. Dean’s lips are quirking but he keeps his arms crossed over his chest, staring resolutely at the ceiling. “In all seriousness, I do need to get home before the end of the week, but I’d love to stay and spend a few more days with you if you want me to.”

Only Dean’s green eyes skirt over to him, but he still fails to hide the spark of excitement in them. “Yeah?”

“If you’re sure it’s not too much too soon.”

“Do, uh, do you think it’s too much? Am I being clingy or some shit?”

“No,” Castiel says honestly. “It’s just a unique situation we have ourselves in, that’s all. I want to make sure we don’t rush things any more than we already have. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I don’t think hanging out for a few more days is gonna mess it up,” Dean says, though he sounds cautious now. 

Castiel rolls over enough to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Neither do I.”

The soft, hopeful smile on Dean’s face lingers in his brain for days, making him wonder if Dean was thinking how unlikely it seems that _ anything _ could mess this up the same way he was in that moment.

If Dean has learned anything about having Cas in his house for the last four days, it’s that he absolutely loves waking up with him. Whether they wake up to lazy morning sex, sleepy blow jobs, or kisses to the nape of his neck with strong arms around him like he did this morning, he’s already dreading waking up tomorrow without Cas. 

This week has been nothing short of magical. As much as he doesn’t like to think in ridiculously sappy terms like that, he doesn’t even have it in him to deny it. Their date on Saturday night had gotten off to a rocky start, but the ice cream and the sex and then the make out session afterwards had set everything right, and he fell asleep that night wrapped in Cas’s arms feeling more sure about his feelings for his best friend than anything before. 

They woke up early and rutted together until they came messily all over each other, and then fell back asleep and ended up sleeping in pretty late. He had to do groceries before he could cook breakfast, and by the time they got back it was more like brunch. They cleaned up and showered and dressed for the day, then walked over to his mom’s where he teared up watching his mom launch herself at Cas in one of the biggest hugs he’s ever seen. Much to his disappointment, she hadn’t hit him, but she had given his shoulders a shake and said, “I could’ve killed you for leaving him like that.”

“It will never happen again,” Castiel promised, and maybe it was naive on his part, but he believed him. 

He wondered how he’d tell his mom that they were dating, but the next thing she said was aimed at him. “And if I ever have to hear from Missouri Mosley that you’re out on a date with the boy who’s loved you nearly as long as I have again, you are in very big trouble, Dean Winchester.”

Dean had laughed it off with, “I’m pretty sure Cas is the only one who fits that description, so I think we’re safe.”

“How did you know?” Cas asked her. “How _ long _ did you know?”

“Oh, sweetie,” she laughed. “Moms always know.”

What he thought would be a quick visit actually turned into several hours of the three of them catching up and looking at old photo albums, and when Sam stopped by, too, mom went on and on about having all of her boys under the same roof again and insisted they all stay for dinner. He and Cas carved out a little time for making out in his childhood room for old time’s sake, but it made his chest hurt when he saw some sadness in Cas’s eyes afterwards, so he tugged him next door to check out what the new Sheriff, Jody Mills, had done with Cas’s old house instead. She joined them for dinner, too, and Cas and the two girls finished off _ three _ bottles of wine as the night went on. By the time they left, Dean was pretty sure that his mom had a new favorite son and it wasn’t either of the ones she gave birth to. 

Cas was a sappy drunk and they had heartachingly slow and tender sex that night. Cas took him from behind, spooning him and holding him oh-so-close, and Dean experienced the most genuinely romantic moment of his entire life when he came untouched with his fingers linked with Cas’s held over his chest. He had never felt more connected to another human being as he had in that moment, and he hasn't been able to even try imagining his life without Cas ever since. It flipped a switch in him, in Cas too, by the looks of things, and everything felt a little bit more serious—and a little bit softer—after that. 

Tuesday was a lazy day, spent in sweatpants (so he could wash Cas’s clothes) and mostly in front of the TV. They went back and forth between rewatching movies they’d seen together as kids, Dean introducing Cas to the Marvel universe with Captain America: The First Avenger (and not even bothering to hide his smug smile when Cas admitted he was interested in seeing more), and Cas insisting that he watch a few episodes of Arrested Development, which was absolutely hilarious in a dry humor kind of way. 

Dean cooked him homemade burgers and fries for dinner that night, and they ate them with a couple of beers in front of the TV with The Avengers.

“Is Captain America in this movie? Played by the same man?” Cas checks.

“He’s the same guy in like, half a dozen movies so far, but—” Then he stops, narrows his eyes. The _ only _thing Cas commented on about the whole movie was Captain America. “You’ve got a thing for Chris Evans, don’t you?”

Cas chooses that moment to take a big bite out of his burger, then gestures to how his mouth is full, shrugging helplessly.

“Yeah, he was all tied up with those abs glistening with sweat. I got your number, Cas. I’m onto you.” He takes a bite of his own burger, shaking his head. “Next thing you’re gonna tell me is you’ve got a thing for Jason Bateman.” Cas had been suspiciously affectionate after that, and he knew he was right. Not that he could blame him or anything, Chris Evans is hot.

Because Cas had to make sure he had everything before he left, Wednesday morning was spent cleaning the house, and he was amazed at how easy it was to tidy up the living room, kitchen, bathrooms, and his bedroom with Cas’s help. They played music, worked together and split up depending on what chores were being done, and after Kraft Dinner and cut up hot dogs for lunch, they walked the paths behind their houses where they used to run through as children. They stopped to make out at the old cement tunnel they spent their childhood pretending was a pirate ship, a spaceship, a dragon, and a million other things. Cas is the best kisser he’s ever been with, so when things escalated (despite his protests that it _ really _ wasn’t necessary) he ended up with a blow job that turned a good portion of his brain to mush, and now there’s a puddle of Cas’s spunk at the base of the tunnel that makes his inner thirteen year old laugh every time he thinks about it.

That whole thing sure as hell isn’t something he ever thought would happen out here. Although, he never really thought he’d come back out here again after they stopped playing outside when they were... how old had they been?

“Do you remember the last time we were out here before this?” he wonders aloud.

Even though he isn’t looking right at him, he knows Cas scrunches his eyebrows as he thinks, and he sees him shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. “I know it was the summer right before I turned twelve, but I don’t remember the last time specifically. Do you?”

“Not a bit. Kinda weird, right?” When Cas doesn’t say anything, he leans back against him and smiles when Cas’s arms come around him and Cas’s lips find his neck. After five entire days together, Cas’s body is familiar against his. He likes that even though he’s the bigger of the two of them (weight and height), Cas treats him like he’s not. Cas is always the big spoon, the snuggler, the one who takes his weight instead of the other way around, and the best part is Cas doesn’t make a big deal out of it. If he said right now that he wanted to be the one to hold Cas, Cas would switch positions with him in a heartbeat. Either that, or tell him to go fuck himself and hold on even tighter. 

God, he’s gonna miss him when he leaves. 

For all he knows, this might be the last day they have together. Though he’s trying not to think about it, he knows it’s at least a possibility that Cas could leave tonight and never come back. Cas could go back to Omaha and decide Dean’s not worth keeping a long-distance relationship with, that they fucked and played house this week and that’s enough for him. It’s not _ likely, _ but weirder things have happened, and if it’s anything like playing out here when they were kids, he might not even know this is their last day together until it’s passed.

“We spent every free minute out here for more than five years,” he continues. “As soon as we were allowed to leave the yard. Every damn day in the summer, after school, just me, you, and Sam.”

“And Jo for a few years near the end,” Cas adds, nudging him slightly.

“Yeah, her too,” Dean nods, remembering that now. She’d played just as hard as them, elbows-deep in dirt and bugs and pirate make-believe as the three of them. “And it’s fucking weird that we had no idea the last time we were out here was the last time, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm,” Cas says. “Do you think it would have been any different had we known?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says. “Well, probably not, I guess. We were eleven and twelve, what the hell did we know?”

“Hardly anything,” Cas agrees, chuckling lightly.

“Just makes me wonder what else we’ve done that was the last time we didn’t know about.”

He can feel Cas’s lips curve into a smile against that one spot under his ear Cas favors, sending goosebumps down his spine. “Deep, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean smirks despite his melancholy thoughts. “I _ am _ a teacher, you know. I think about stuff sometimes.”

“I know you do. Your brain is as endlessly fascinating to me as your sense of humor and too-big heart.”

Dean huffs like he doesn’t buy it, though he’s secretly pleased. He loves when Cas compliments him because he always sounds completely genuine, and knowing Cas means he knows he _ is _ completely genuine and it makes it impossible for him to think otherwise. Even so, he makes a joke out of it. “You already got in my pants, Cas, no need for the flattery.”

“Agree to disagree,” Cas says simply. Cas slides his hands down Dean’s sides and tugs his hands out of his pockets, linking their fingers together at his sides. His heart swells and he’s suddenly pleased that Cas can’t see the ridiculous smile on his face and figure out how fucking happy it makes him just to be holding hands. All of this is just for them out here. There’s no one to see, no one to know, no one to judge. Cas is holding his hands, nuzzling into his neck, and being sweet and romantic just because he wants to be, and apparently it’s bringing out his inner softie because he’s loving every second of it. “Does any of this _ last time _ talk have anything to do with you and I?”

Damn Cas for seeing through him so easily—the one and only con he’s come up with so far for dating his best friend. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. Then, because it’s Cas, he sighs and tells the truth. “Maybe a little.”

“Tell me.”

Cas’s voice is patient and soft, and it has him spilling his guts almost immediately. “What if—” His throat dries up and he has to start again. “What if you go back to Omaha tonight and decide I’m not worth dating long-distance after all, and this ends up being our last day together? What if this is our last time out here together ever, right now?”

He can hear Cas swallow behind him and waits for the empty promise he knows is going to come. _ I would never think that, Dean. That’s never going to happen._

Instead, he hears, “What if it is?”

He turns so that he can look at Cas, wanting to know where his head’s at. Cas looks curious and patient, and god, that fondness in his eyes that Cas saves just for him is there just as clear as anything. It hits him out of nowhere how unbearably sad he feels about Cas leaving later, and he knows he shouldn’t be, that he shouldn’t be so damn needy and want the guy he’s dating to be around 24/7, but dammit _ he is. _

“Would you change anything about today if it was our last day together?” Cas asks him.

He chews the inside of his lip as panic tries to worm its way into his mind, his chest, his gut, but Cas is still holding eye contact and he knows absolutely that Cas could never look at him like this right now if he thought what he was asking was a possibility. Cas is humoring him, helping him talk this through. 

Dean shakes his head, thinking about how easy today was, how easy _ this _is. How domestic and perfect it is, how effortless it feels to be with Cas and be in love with Cas. 

“No,” he decides. 

Cas’s smile flashes quick and bright, so gorgeous it still makes his stomach swoop when he sees it aimed directly at him. “What if this _ isn’t _our last time out here?” Cas counters. “What if we date long-distance for a month before you wear me down and convince me to move back, and we stay madly, disgustingly in love for our whole lives, and we come to this place all the time, still hobbling out here with bad knees and canes when we’re a hundred years old?”

His heart aches from the very idea, the pining inside of him for a lifetime spent with Cas—a lifetime feeling as happy and comfortable and free as he has this whole week—damn near brings him to his knees. But he closes that off, can’t let himself believe it, even want that, because that’s not the way he works. He works with the worst-case scenario in mind, not the best. He’s less likely to be disappointed that way. 

“What if we only make it a month? A year? Five?” he challenges. Cas tilts his head, looking at him questioningly. “People break up all the time. People die, like my dad.”

“They do,” Cas agrees, nodding solemnly. “People stay together, too though. High school sweethearts, childhood best friends,” he teases. “People who meet online and some even after they spill coffee on each other at little hole in the wall cafes.”

Dean smiles gently. “Okay, no more chick flicks for you.”

“The point is,” Cas says, talking over him now and smiling at him with his eyes. “All anybody can do is live every day until they can’t anymore.” This time he frowns, not getting what that has to do with anything. “If loving me and being with me makes you happy for the rest of your life, that would make me the luckiest man on earth as far as I’m concerned. But if it doesn’t, and this thing between us is meant to burn hot and bright but only for a little while, then I’ll still be your best friend afterwards.”

He knows that’s supposed to be comforting, knows it’s supposed to help in a way, but Cas has no idea that right now, that’s his second biggest fear—right after being forgotten and ignored all over again. 

“I don’t know how I could go back to the way it was before,” he whispers, afraid to admit it but too terrified to keep it inside. 

Cas leans in and kisses his forehead, his lips dry but soft and comforting, and Dean’s eyes burn with all of the emotions swirling inside of him. “If it’s up to me, you won’t have to.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Cas wraps his arms around him, pulling him in for a tight, warm hug, providing the exact safe haven he needs to fall into. “I’m coming back. I’m not going to go home and fall out of love with you, and I know that because I stayed in love with you for ten years without any contact between us.” There’s a short pause, then, “I heard a quote once that’s always reminded me of you,” he says. _“Time passes, memories fade, feelings change, people leave, but hearts never forget. _ My heart won’t forget, Dean. I’m afraid you might be stuck with me now.”

“I wanna be stuck with you. I—” He burrows in even closer, pressing his face into Cas’s neck, internally battling the urge to pretend he’s fine and the urge to confess the truth. “I’m being such a fucking baby about this but I don’t want you to go.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” Cas whispers, kissing the side of his head over and over, his big hand stroking the back of his head, down to his neck and back. His voice is deeper, thick with emotion when he speaks again. “I don’t want to go either. I don’t want to go back to my empty apartment alone after sharing a home—your home—with you for the last week.”

“So stay,” Dean begs him, asking for Cas now just as much as himself. He _ hates _ the idea of Cas going home and feeling lonely. “Stay with me.”

_ “I can’t. _I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, rubbing his back and sounding as broken as he feels. “I said I’d do the company payroll even though I’m off and if I’m not back tomorrow morning there’s going to be several unpaid, very angry accountants looking for their paychecks.” The back rub stops, and suddenly he’s being pushed away from Cas’s body by his shoulders. He’s ready to duck his head and pretend he’s totally fine when he sees the excitement shining in Cas’s eyes. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come to Omaha with me,” Cas repeats. “I have to work, but you don’t, right?”

“Right,” Dean says, quickly getting on board with this idea. “For how long?”

“However long you want. You can stay the weekend, a few days, or the whole week and then I can come back here the weekend after. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” Dean questions. “You don’t think I’m being too clingy?”

“We have a lot of time to make up for, so I kind of like you clingy,” Cas responds, leaning in to catch his lips in a quick, hard kiss, then pulling back and pinning him in place with those wide, hopeful blue eyes he still hasn’t figured out how to deny yet, even after five days. “Please come home with me. Let me find out how it feels to wake up with you in my bed.”

Dean rolls his eyes for show, but really, his heart is _ soaring, _ and he knows his smile is showing it _ . _ “Like I was ever gonna say no.” 

And then Cas’s lips are crashing into his, kissing him absolutely breathless, and when they start walking back to his house a few minutes later, he stops to look back just for a second, thinking to himself that if this is the last time he and Cas ever come out here to this old cement tube, at least he’ll never forget it.


	8. Chapter 8

Later that day, with his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, Dean follows Cas through the hallway leading to his apartment and stops barely a step inside due to complete shock. 

After hearing Cas talk about travelling, his love for wine and fancy cheese, and based on the stuffy door guy at the entrance to Cas’s apartment building, he assumed that Cas would have some kind of lavish, expensive-looking apartment. But he was wrong. Really, really wrong.

Technically speaking, it’s not a bad apartment. It’s clean, and it’s not like there’s holes in the walls or rats or roaches scurrying across the floor. But it’s _ empty. _ There’s nothing on the walls, no shelves with little knick knacks, nothing that makes the place look lived in.

He tries to rearrange the look of shock he knows must be on his face, but he doesn’t do it fast enough.

“What?” Cas asks him.

“Sorry,” he dodges, springing into action to close the door behind him. “Just tired from the drive. Spaced out for a second.”

“No, you didn’t,” Cas says knowingly, flopping down onto the expensive but uncomfortable looking couch. “You were looking at my apartment funny. Is there something wrong?”

“Nah, nothing.” He sets his bag down by his feet and toes off his shoes even though Cas hasn’t yet, then joins him on the couch. Thankfully, it’s not as uncomfortable as it looks, and since they’ve been in separate cars for three hours, he gives into the urge to rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. “How long have you lived here?”

“About seven years. I moved in almost right after I got my first full-time job. You sent me Christmas cards here, remember?”

_ Seven years _and he doesn’t even have a bookshelf? No photos or art? Nothing? “It’s a nice building,” Dean tries.

“What don’t you like about the apartment?” Cas asks again, clearly not buying it. “You’re not that subtle.”

“It’s a good apartment,” he says honestly. “Was just a little surprised that it doesn’t feel more like you.”

“Feel like me?” Cas repeats.

Dean shrugs, though his shoulder is mostly unable to move since he’s kinda tucked in under Cas’s arm. “Nothing on the walls, no pictures of you and your parents at those wineries, no art, no bookshelves—”

“I read on my Kindle,” Cas says.

Dean snorts, but tips his head up to look at him. “You know what I mean.”

“I honestly never noticed, but now that you point it out...” He pauses, looks around, shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought of Omaha as home so I guess I didn’t bother trying to make it feel that way.”

The idea of Cas being away from all of his friends, from _ him, _ alone and sitting in this empty apartment has sadness and unhappiness seeping into him more and more the longer he thinks about it.

“Won’t be hard to convince you to move back, then,” he says, trying to make it sound more like a joke than it feels.

“I definitely won’t need a lot of boxes,” Cas replies, and he smiles genuinely for the first time since he walked inside.

“So what do you wanna do?”

“Sleep,” Cas says, and Dean just laughs because it’s only nine, but he’s pretty tired, too.

“Food _ then _ sleep,” he bargains.

“I don’t have any food. In case you forgot, a very smart, very persuasive man has had me willingly held hostage in his incredibly strong arms for almost a week.”

“You tryin’ to win a contest for most compliments in one sentence?”

“I only speak the truth,” Cas shoots back, already digging his phone out of his pocket to order pizza. “Bacon, pepperoni, and ham. No sausage or I’ll be up all night with heartburn.”

“Never thought I’d find a gay dude that says no to sausage,” Dean jokes, and he’s rewarded with a short laugh and roll of the blue eyes he loves.

It turns out the one cool thing Cas has in his apartment is his TV. It’s huge and the picture is crystal clear, and they’re both happy enough to relax on the couch watching it while they wait for their pizza to come. They eat it off of cobalt blue plates with a couple of sodas, and then they get ready for bed. It’s been a while since he’s done the whole before-bed ritual at somebody else’s house, so even though it’s a little awkward since he’s unfamiliar with his surroundings, Cas is a comforting and familiar presence beside him now. They brush their teeth knocking elbows, reminding him yet again why he’s a genius for installing double sinks, and he’s probably pleased more than he should be when he realizes he and Cas use the same spearmint flavored toothpaste. 

Cas stepping into plaid pajama pants is a surprise since he’s been sleeping in boxers since they’ve been together, but Cas shrugs and explains he forgot to pack them and though he appreciated the boxers Dean lent him, he really prefers sleeping in pants. Cas looks hot as fuck with the way they hang on his hips, and once they’re in bed together he finds out they’re remarkably cozy to snuggle up to, too, so he has no complaints. 

“Should buy you some Captain America ones,” Dean says, just to bug him.

“Mmm.” The sound of Cas’s voice is low and rich, and he actually feels it rumble through Cas’s chest since he’s currently lying there. “That’s one way to guarantee sweet dreams.”

Dean chuckles, smiling at the press of Cas’s lips to the top of his head. “As if you just said that when your boyfriend’s about to fall asleep in your bed for the first time.”

Cas sounds even cheerier than he did at the mention of Captain America when he replies, “You’re my boyfriend?”

Well _ that _ was an unfortunate slip of the tongue. “Not anymore,” he deadpans.

Cas’s chest shakes with his laughter. “And to think those five seconds were still the longest I’ve ever had a boyfriend.”

Now Dean laughs along with him. “Okay, fine. We can be boyfriends but you’re totally in the doghouse.”

“The doghouse?” Cas repeats, sounding excited by the prospect. “Wow. How ever will I get out, Mr. Winchester?”

“My eyes are closed, so don’t even try the puppy dog look,” Dean warns him. 

“What if I tell you you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had?” 

“Aim higher,” he laughs, knowing Cas has never even had a boyfriend before now.

Cas yawns, stretching and arching his back so that Dean’s upper body is pushed up by his expanding chest. “I’m too tired, maybe tomorrow.”

He chuckles again and settles into Cas’s arms more snugly, perfectly content to stay exactly where he is all night long. “Remind me I’m mad at you when we wake up.”

“Yeah, sure,” Cas says sarcastically. 

Cas’s bed is actually really comfortable, and after sleeping with him every night since Friday, he’s gotten remarkably used to the sensation of Cas’s body next to his, which probably explains why he’s almost sleeping only minutes later when Cas rouses him again. 

“I’ve lived here for seven years,” Cas whispers. “Spent twenty-five hundred nights in this apartment, give or take, and all it took for it to feel like home was you.”

It’s the happiest moment of his life so far, and even though he can’t come up with a single thing to tell Cas just how much that means to him, he manages to say, “Okay, you’re out of the doghouse.”

A kiss to the forehead is the last thing he remembers before he sinks into sleep. 

•••

  
Thursday morning is spent lounging around while Cas does the payroll from his computer, then he gets a tour of the town. Cas drives him by where he works, a small, second story office above a little Italian restaurant Cas assures him is no good. They do groceries together again since Cas has no food, and that night he’s treated to a home cooked meal from somebody other than his mom for the first time in _ years. _When he complains that he feels like a whale after two servings of Shepherd’s Pie, Cas asks him if he wants to go for a walk. 

Cas lives closer to a busy part of town than he’s used to, and walking around with so many people on the streets and so much traffic really has him missing his quiet small-town home. 

Like Cas can read his mind, he says, “It took me a while to get used to it, too. You can imagine how quiet it seemed at your place in comparison.”

Dean nods his head. “Good thing you live in an apartment building ‘cause I’d probably never be able to sleep with all the noise from the traffic.”

“I’m going to get you to the ocean one day,” Cas announces. “Falling asleep to the sound of the waves was my idea of heaven before we got together.”

He shoves his free hand in his pocket, pleased but still nervous about how he’s supposed to react to stuff like that. “Hell of a drive to the ocean.”

“That way we can have both of our ideal vacations together,” Cas says, and he can’t help the sappy smile on his face because just like that, Cas has come up with a solution to what almost ruined their first real date.

“No freaking wonder my mom loves you so much.”

Cas looks at him with surprise. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I was just thinking how easily you solved something that’s still been bugging me a little. You’re good at talking me through shit.” He pauses, then adds, “Good for me period.”

Cas squeezes his hand, and lightens the mood again with, “No wonder your mom loves me so much.”

•••

  
Friday and Saturday were both date nights. Cas chose to go _ bowling _ of all things on Friday night, which he wasn’t excited about at first but actually turned out to be a lot of fun once they started playing each other frame-for-frame for sexual favors. Not surprisingly, that night ended with two very satisfying orgasms and Dean still owing Cas a blow job and sex with him on top, but those are both on his sex with Cas bucket list anyway, so as he said to Cas earlier, “Is anybody really losing here?”

After he does a Google search, he finds out _ The Rocky Horror Show _ is being performed at a nearby theater, so he splurges on tickets for them on Saturday night. Cas has never seen it before _ and _ he’s never been to a live show, and even though Dean winds up watching Cas more than he watches the show, it’s hands-down the best date he’s ever been on, and way up there with one of the best nights of his life, too. 

He’d been considering going home during the week when Cas has to work, but the ache in his chest on Sunday every time he considers bringing it up is enough to convince him he’s not ready to say goodbye yet. He has no idea what the hell he’s going to do all day when Cas is at work, but he’s pretty sure seeing Cas, spending time with Cas, and falling asleep with him at night is going to be worth a few days of boredom.

Monday morning isn’t that bad.

Monday afternoon feels like its own day it lasts so long.

Monday night makes the boredom of the day worth it, especially when he meets Cas at the door wearing nothing but that lacy pair of panties he’d teased the other night. He pushes his boyfriend onto the couch and straddles him then and there, riding him hard and fast until he comes all over Cas’s fucking _ sweater vest, _ which unbelievably, becomes one of the hottest things he’s ever seen in his life.

Even still, Tuesday is twice as boring as Monday was, and by Tuesday afternoon, he’s bored enough that he stops by Cas’s office to bring him a coffee just for an excuse to leave the house. He’s never been there during office hours, or inside at all, actually, but he’s pretty sure Cas will be happy to see him. God knows Cas will be thankful for coffee if nothing else; he’s learned over the last week and a half that Cas is a sucker for caffeine. 

He’s in a pair of worn jeans and an old Pink Floyd tee, and the first thought he has when he walks up the single flight of stairs and sees the thick carpet and ornate desk is that he’s definitely underdressed. That’s proven when he sees the woman working at the reception desk basically screaming, _ I’m rich and powerful _ with the long, manicured nails, bold red lipstick, and sparkling jewelry around her neck and on her fingers. She has long, dark, wavy hair, and she’s dressed in a low cut, blood red top that matches her lipstick exactly, and a blazer paired with a short skirt. 

He doesn’t even get a greeting out before she raises one flawlessly sculpted eyebrow and says, “So you do exist.”

“Sorry?” he asks, not sure what she’s referring to.

“I’ve seen your picture in Clarence’s office. I never forget a handsome face, even if you are older now.”

“I dunno who Clarence is, but I’m here to see Cas. Uh, Castiel,” he corrects. When she looks at him blankly, he says, “Castiel Novak?”

“You’re in luck. I’m his best friend around here,” she says, sitting back in her chair and crossing one long, bare leg over the other, showing off a pair of skinny high heels. “We’re real tight,” she whispers. 

He feels a pang of jealousy and responds, “Funny he never mentioned you.”

“If you were my best friend, would you mention me?” she asks, letting her eyes sweep down her own body purposely.

He tries to control the spike of his temper at what she’s obviously implying. Cas is _ gay _ for fuck’s sake, he’d never even look at this chick. “Is he free?”

“Just let me check.” She picks up a phone, presses a button, and flirts, “Hey, Clarence. Working hard or hardly working?” Dean doesn’t bother to hide his eye roll when she giggles over something Cas says on the other end of the line. “Well you might want to take a break because there’s something hot and steamy waiting for you at the front desk.” She winks up at him and he openly glares at her. Something about this chick rubs him the wrong way, and even though he knows he has nothing to be jealous of, he hates the way she’s flirting with Cas in front of him. “Oh, you want it,” she purrs seductively. Pause. “Suit yourself.” She hangs up the phone and hits him with a pout. “Sorry, sweet cheeks, Clarence doesn’t want to see you.”

He shakes his head in annoyance, knowing that if she bothered to ask for his name and _ told Cas _ who was here, he would want to see him. With that thought in mind, he puts the coffee on her desk and pulls his phone out. He texts Cas a photo of him with the coffee and the caption, “Special delivery.”

He looks at the chick and counts down cockily. “Ten, nine, eight...”

He hears a door open and, “Dean?” before he gets to four. He flicks his eyes in the direction of Cas’s voice and can barely catch his breath when he gets a glimpse of him looking all professional in his work suit and a baby blue dress shirt, and then it leaves his lungs entirely when Cas smiles at him so wide he can see his gums. “What are you doing here?”

He checks him out again, obviously this time, and sees the faint blush heating Cas’s cheeks when he notices. “Thought you might need a little pick-me-up. Hope it’s okay?”

Cas’s smile softens as he takes another step towards him, one hand settling on his lower back. “Of course it’s okay. I haven’t taken an afternoon break since I started working here. They owe me.” Then he turns to the woman at the front desk. “Meg, this is Dean. Any time he comes by or calls, you are to tell me he’s here _ by name _ and make sure his calls get put through immediately, no matter what. Is that clear?”

“I thought I made it plenty clear that your boy toy was here,” Meg replies.

“And _ I thought _ you were merely being inappropriate in the workplace. Again. Unfortunately your reputation precedes you,” Cas says, his voice icy cold. Meg’s smile only grows and yeah, he definitely understands why she rubbed him the wrong way now. She’s a bitch. “I don’t want to be disturbed for the next fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir, Clarence, sir,” she says sarcastically and mostly under her breath.

Cas takes his hand and steers him towards his office, and Dean is _ just _ childish enough to shoot Meg a cocky smile over his shoulder. The scowl he gets in return will feed his soul for _ years _ to come.

As soon as he closes the door behind him, Cas swoops in for a kiss. Dean’s surprised but not at all against the idea, and he hums happily when Cas cups his face before he pulls away. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me at work.”

“And I haven’t even offered to blow you at your desk yet.” Cas goes firetruck red, eyeing his door nervously, and a booming laugh escapes him. “I was joking, relax. This is for you, though,” he says, handing him the coffee.

Cas looks pleased when he takes it from Dean’s hand and it’s his turn to blush when Cas kisses his cheek. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Existed.”

Cas smiles and moves to take his coffee to his seat behind his desk. Dean follows curiously, walking behind him to check out what he’s working on. “How’s your day been so far?” Cas asks. 

“Well, the most exciting moment has been getting one over on your guard dog at the front desk, if that tells you anything,” Dean responds.

“Meg is difficult to get along with on a good day,” Cas says quietly.

“Funny, she told me you two were ‘tight’.” When Cas looks up just to show him his grimace, he laughs. “Yeah, figured she was just trying to make me jealous. She wants your bod, Cas.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cas replies.

He rubs Cas’s shoulders from behind, digging his thumbs into his muscular flesh. “Well, seein’ as you’re hot as fuck, I can understand where she’s comin’ from. Unfortunately for her, I’m not into sharing.” Because Cas really _ is _ hot as fuck and talking about it has desire thrumming through him, he leans over to press a few kisses into his neck. 

“Well, considering I’m repulsed by breasts, I don’t think you have to worry about that when it comes to Meg,” Cas says, surprising a laugh out of him. He straightens up and flicks his eyes over the paperwork on Cas’s desk. 

“What’s this?” he asks, pointing to some kind of official-looking document.

“Financial statement.”

“For Starbucks?” Dean asks, reading the company name off of it. “Man, you guys must be loaded if you’ve got their business.”

“We _ are _ loaded, but we just have a few of the franchises, not the entire company.”

He nods and lifts his eyes to Cas’s computer monitor, which is when he sees the only framed photo on his desk is of the two of them. He reaches for it without asking, staring fondly down at the glass-covered faces of his 17-year-old self with his arm slung around Cas.

It’s graduation, judging by the caps and gowns they’re both in, and while he’s smiling proudly at the camera, Cas is turned towards him and smiling at him the exact same way he smiles at him now. Expression soft, eyes beaming with all the love in the world. 

This must be the picture Meg was talking about.

“How long’ve you had this in here?” he asks, though he’s sure he knows the answer already.

“Forever,” Cas says simply. “It’s one of my favorite photos of us. I like your freckles in the summer.”

He can only gaze down at the picture fondly. “You really did have heart eyes for me all those years ago.”

Cas chuckles. “It looks like I wasn’t as subtle as I thought I was, yes.”

“I was such an idiot,” Dean says. “I should’ve seen you.”

“In your defence, most people in high school looked at you like that.” 

Dean flicks his over to the real Cas and when their eyes catch, he’d swear his heart tumbles in his chest. “We’ll have to get you another frame so you can have a before and after picture.”

“I’d like that,” Cas replies. Then he turns and takes Dean’s hand in his. “You’re bored here, huh?”

He snorts shallowly. “Am I that obvious?”

“You are, but it also only makes sense. You don’t know anybody here, you don’t have anything to do.” Cas’s big thumb brushes the back of his hand. “I understand.”

“It’s—it’s hard ‘cause I sit on my ass all day at your place wishing I was at home, but then you come back at the end of the day and I’m so fucking happy that even the _ thought _ of going home...”

He unconsciously places his hand on his stomach, thinking about the nerves and uncomfortable feeling he gets there whenever he thinks about leaving. Cas takes his hand off of his stomach and brings it to his mouth instead, kissing his palm with his eyes closed. When he opens them again, sadness is warring with understanding, and already just seeing that makes Dean want to apologize and promise to stay here forever.

“Why don’t we spend the night in tonight so we can make love until neither of us can go again, and then you go home tomorrow morning—” Dean opens his mouth to argue but Cas talks over him. “—and I’ll leave from here after work Friday night and come straight to your place?” He still doesn’t say anything, not wanting to think about leaving Cas behind. Not wanting to think about not having his familiar warmth next to him when he falls asleep tomorrow. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before you leave and Friday night, so technically it’s only one day we’ll be apart.”

He swallows down the lump in his throat. “Two nights.”

Cas squeezes his hand, kisses it again. “And then we’ll be together for two.”

“And then what?” Dean asks, too aware of what the only possible answer is.

“Then the weekend after.”

He shakes his head, his eyes already watering. “I dunno how that’s gonna be enough.”

“Easy,” Cas says, making him look up sharply. “It’s that or nothing, so I’ll take whatever I can get.”

He swallows again, sniffling slightly to stop his nose from running. “We can talk about it some more tonight. Didn’t mean to get into this when you’re at work.”

Cas nods. “That’s probably best.” Cas stands and Dean immediately stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets, doing everything he can to keep the hurricane of emotions buried deep inside. Cas cups his face, tilting it up so he’s forced to look at him. Even then, he keeps his eyes trained on Cas’s lips instead of looking into his eyes, right until Cas dips his head to catch his gaze. “You don’t want to look so sad walking out of here. Meg might sense weakness and strike.” Because he knows Cas is trying to make him smile, he gives into the slight quirk of his lips, though it’s a struggle. Cas obviously thinks so, too, because he laughs sadly. “That might be the most pathetic attempt at a smile I’ve ever seen.”

“Wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Cas’s shoulders slump sadly, but he closes the few inches between them and presses their lips together. Cas’s kiss is firm and insistent, and the force behind it sends Dean back on his heels before he pushes back and kisses him just as hard. Cas’s teeth bump his lip and he doesn’t even care, because right now Cas is here and that’s more than he’s going to have tomorrow. He knows it’s not the place, but he opens his mouth anyway, desperate for a hit of that hot cinnamon flavor that’s so uniquely Cas.

And Cas—fucking Cas—always knows exactly what he needs and slips his tongue into his mouth. When he was expecting an onslaught of hot, possessive swipes of his wicked tongue, Cas surprises him with the tenderness in which he kisses him. Each time their mouths realign he finds himself more and more centered, the desperation and fear that was taking over his body and mind fading into nothingness by the time their lips separate. 

Cas’s hands are still on his face, and though his lips are shiny with spit and more tempting than should be allowed when Dean’s not allowed to shove his dick between them, it’s the way they’re curved into a smile that erases that last lingering twinge of doubt. 

“It should be illegal for you to turn to putty in my hands like that when I’m at work,” Cas says quietly, slipping his hands to rest on the back of Dean’s neck. “But you feel a little bit better at least, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean admits. 

“Then I’ll walk you out while I have that fresh in my mind to help me make it through the rest of the day.”

He nods and slips his fingers between Cas’s as he turns towards the door, but before he pulls it open he turns back and buries his face in Cas’s neck for a tight, quick hug. Cas hugs him back with a quiet chuckle, his hand rubbing his back as he often does, and after a few deep breaths of Cas’s woodsy scent, he actually opens the door with his eyes trained carefully on the floor.

They walk side by side through the office to the front desk where they both ignore Meg, and once they reach the top of the stairs, Cas says, “Thank you for the coffee.” Cas surprises him by leaning in for one more quick peck that anybody could see, and adds, “I’ll see you at home.”

The domesticity of those five simple words has him whistling while he walks back to his car, and it isn’t until he gets back to Cas’s apartment twirling his key around his finger that he realizes how much better ten minutes with Cas has made his day.

Saying goodbye to Dean is every bit as hard as he feared. They stayed up late the night before, wrapped in each other’s arms, trading kisses and caresses as if one of them was dying instead of just spending a few days apart. When Castiel woke up early this morning, they were still tangled together, and his heart was absolutely brimming for about five seconds before he remembered it was about to break when Dean left.

He made love to Dean after that. It was slow and tender, face to face with their stale breath mingling and skin tasting salty with sweat from the night before. Dean had his hands on Castiel’s face when he reached his climax first. Their eye contact only broke for the briefest of seconds while pleasure overtook him, and Castiel took the chance to study his lover’s face in the throes of passion—swollen lips stretched open, eyes slammed closed, long eyelashes fanning over freckled cheeks—knowing in that moment he would never see anything as breathtaking as Dean.

Though he hadn’t come right out and said it since that night at the ice cream parlor, there isn’t a known force in the universe that could have stopped the words from coming out in that moment.

He was inside of the man he loves, filling him, completing him, watching him be as visually flawless as humanly possible, knowing without a shred of a doubt that the man is every bit as beautiful on the inside, and he could hardly breathe through the gravity of his feelings. It’s no wonder his words came out in a rough whisper, that they were shaky with the flood of emotion and depth of love, because has anybody ever felt as much as he’s feeling right now? 

“I love you.”

Dean’s eyes popped open, the gold specks floating amongst the deep green glittering in the early morning light, right before his words were said along with a shuddering breath. “Love _ you, _ Cas. I love you so damn much.”

Then their lips were coming together almost desperately, and it was only a few moments later that he tipped over the edge covered in sweat with Dean’s hands fisted in his hair, knowing even as it’s happening that he won’t forget this exact moment for as long as he lives.

After a shower where they barely separate long enough to actually clean each other’s bodies, Dean makes them pancakes for breakfast, and they both eat one handed so their fingers can stay twined together for every last possible moment. 

Though he insists it isn’t necessary, Dean walks him out to his car when he’s ready to go to work. Every step away from his apartment, which after only less than a week of the two of them in it together somehow feels like his and Dean’s place, seems like a mile-long hike. His heart gets increasingly heavy, and the silence between them is only interrupted by the sounds around them: footsteps on carpet, tile, then sidewalk. Cars driving by. People talking to each other or on cell phones. Dean failing to completely mask the way his breathing is getting shakier the closer they get to his car.

He places his lunch bag on the passenger seat and turns around to pull Dean into his arms. Dean almost sags against him, his face buried in his neck, and it takes several seconds longer than he’d like to be able to blink the tears out of his eyes and speak as steadily as he knows Dean needs right now.

Surprisingly, Dean beats him to it. “This isn’t goodbye,” Dean says, his voice muffled by how it’s angled towards him.

He tightens his hold on him. “Of course it isn’t,” he agrees. “I’ll see you Friday night.”

Dean squeezes him once, nice and long, then draws back enough so that Castiel can see his face. His eyes are rimmed with red and it breaks his heart that Dean’s struggling with this so much. 

“You can’t bail on me again.” Before Castiel can assure him that’s never going to happen, he says, “I know where you live and where you work now. If your ass isn’t back on my couch where it belongs by 9:00 Friday night, I’m coming to get you.” Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing in his throat. “I’ll drag you back kicking and screaming if I have to.”

“You’ll have to drag me _ away _ kicking and screaming Sunday night,” Castiel retorts. “There is nothing that could keep me from you a second longer than absolutely necessary, I promise you.”

Dean drops his eyes, takes a deep breath, then looks back up. “I’ll seriously kick your ass if this is it, Cas.”

“It’s _ not _ it,” he repeats again, framing Dean’s face with his hands and looking directly into his eyes. “Don’t even waste a second thinking about the possibility of not seeing me again on Friday. I’m telling you, I’ll be there. You can trust me.” When Dean is still looking at him like he’s trying to find the lie in his words, he says, “In fact, you’ll be so sick of me after the non-stop text messages, phone calls, and FaceTimes between now and then you probably won’t even want me there by Friday night.”

“Never gonna happen,” Dean says. “I’m gonna want you there—I’m always gonna want you there—and I’m gonna spend every second trying to convince you to quit your job and be my live-in summer sex machine.”

Castiel laughs at the ridiculous notion, and amazingly, he feels Dean’s shoulders shake with his own huff of laughter. “You keep talking like that and I’ll never leave once I get there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean replies, showing off his most charming smile.

Knowing that he’s going to be late if he lingers much longer, he pulls Dean in for another hug, taking a chance in saying, “I love you,” a second time in one day. “And I will be there as soon as I can possibly be on Friday.”

“Love you,” Dean replies, sending so much warmth through his body he wonders how he can even hold it all, and then their lips come together one last time. 

Everything disappears but Dean. There’s no scuff of shoes on pavement, nobody talking, no traffic, just the steady beat of his heart and the ragged breaths coming from both he and Dean as they savor the last kiss they’ll have today. 

They finally part with their foreheads resting against each other, Dean’s hands still on his face, and his hands covering them, brushing his thumbs over the backs of Dean’s hands in the only remaining gesture of comfort he can offer him.

“Love you,” Dean says again quietly, sounding almost embarrassed to be saying it.

“I love you, too. So much, Dean,” he promises. 

Dean’s the one who takes a step back, slotting their fingers together between them, swallowing hard once again. 

“Don’t work too hard,” Dean says, his voice failing to convey the same easy tone he’d used to say the same thing yesterday and the day before. He’s sure his own answering smile fails to convince Dean of his happiness in the exact same way.

“Have a good drive home,” Castiel replies. “Let me know when you get there?”

Dean nods, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. He surprises Castiel by raising one hand to his neck and tapping on his skin. “Loosen your tie on your way out tonight so Meg can see the hickies I left all over your neck just for her.”

He can’t help the amused laugh that escapes him. “Is that what that was about last night?”

“Just wanna make sure everybody knows you're mine.”

“They all knew long before the hickies,” Castiel says sincerely. He leans in for one more quick peck, and then—though it’s the absolute last thing he wants to do—he squeezes Dean’s hand one last time and lets go entirely, breaking physical contact between them for the first time since they got dressed this morning. He gets behind the wheel of the car, starts the engine, and puts the window down. Dean is still watching him, so he says, “I’ll see you Friday,” one final time.

He can see Dean’s eyes glittering with tears, so he doesn’t hold it against him when all he can do is nod, and then he backs up and drives to work feeling like he left half of his heart behind.

It’s unsurprising that his work day drags by. The heavy feeling that accompanied him on his walk to the car hasn’t let up even for a moment, and it isn’t until just after two o’clock when he gets a message from Dean letting him know that he’s arrived home safely that he feels anything other than sadness. They send a few messages back and forth, but then he gets back to work after he promises to FaceTime Dean when he gets home at the end of the day.

Coming home to an empty apartment after having Dean waiting for him the last two days is awful. Hearing the silence in his house where there had been idle chit chat, deep conversations, and frequent laughter is devastating. Eating alone again after having Dean’s company for every meal over the last week completely ruins his appetite, and even the hour he and Dean spend FaceTiming doesn’t really help after he ends the call. Brushing his teeth alone is a strangely lonely experience after having Dean constantly elbowing him, but even that is absolutely nothing compared to how heartbreaking it is to climb into his bed alone at the end of the day.

He knew how much he enjoyed falling asleep with Dean in his arms, and he knew trying to do it without him was going to be difficult, but he had no idea it was going to feel _ like this. _ He didn’t even notice until now that this hour before bed is when he and Dean would talk the most. It was never about anything important, but they’d lie in bed next to each other, more often than not with electronics in their hands. He’d be reading on his Kindle, and Dean would be scrolling through his Twitter or Facebook page, telling him little anecdotes about what Sam, Mary, Charlie, or Jo had posted online. Dean would read him funny headlines, show him memes and cute videos of animals, and though it’s silly in a way, he might miss that more than anything else now that Dean isn’t here.

He’s aware on some level that this is absolutely pathetic. He had Dean in his arms in this bed less than 24 hours ago, so how can he possibly miss him this much already? How can the absence of one body from the apartment he’s been living in for seven years erase the feeling of _ home _ he’d been basking in for the last week?

He’s so lost in his thoughts that it takes him forever to fall asleep that night.

His sheets still smell like Dean, like citrus and sex, and he wraps himself in them, buries his face in the pillow Dean was sleeping on when he wasn’t sleeping on his chest, and only once some of the ache in his chest is soothed does the mental light bulb come on. 

_ Dean _ is home.

Not this apartment, not Dean’s house, but Dean himself. 

It doesn’t matter that his job is here, that his apartment is here, that he’s lived here for the better part of ten years, or that he hasn’t even seen Dean for a decade before the last week. Dean is home. Dean’s always been home, and he knows with a surety he can’t even explain to himself that _ that _ will never change.

He shoots right up out of bed, flips on his light, and goes directly into the living room to fetch his laptop. He has a letter to write. He’s much too wound up for sleep now, and he doesn't end up falling asleep that night until well into the morning, but when he finally gets into bed alone again, he has an exhausted smile on his face and peace in his heart because he knows how he’s going to fix everything. 

Even with everything he did late into the night Wednesday night and all of the time he devotes to his new plan on Thursday, he doesn’t end up arriving at Dean’s house until Friday afternoon. He didn’t tell him that he was coming early, but he still barely pulls into the driveway next to Baby before Dean comes running out of the house in sock feet to greet him at his car door.

Dean flings himself into his arms and Castiel can’t blink the tears out of his eyes fast enough, because one hug from Dean is enough to erase every little bit of doubt he’s been battling with since Thursday morning.

They kiss briefly, a satisfying closed-mouth kiss that tastes like coming home, and apparently it’s only when Dean pulls away to hit him with a truly megawatt smile that Dean notices the boxes piled in his backseat.

“What the hell, Cas? You moving in or something?” Dean asks, clearly joking.

His heart thuds in his chest. This is it. This is his ace in the hole. “I was hoping we could talk about that.”

Dean laughs. And laughs some more, this time sounding fake and unsure. And when he seems to realize Castiel isn’t laughing along with him, his smile turns into something much more authentic, but all twisted up with nerves and disbelief.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I quit my job.”

_ “What?” _

“I typed up my letter of resignation and handed it in with two weeks notice on Thursday, and my boss said I have so much vacation time saved up that I should just finish the day and they’d still give me a good reference. He wrote me a letter of recommendation and everything,” he says, still finding it hard to believe that he had been so understanding. 

“Holy shit,” Dean comments.

“I, um, also paid the fee to break my lease. So I need to have everything out by the end of the month. I want to move back here if it’s okay with you.”

“Holy shit,” Dean repeats. They stand there for what feels like a really long time, but in reality is probably only a few seconds. Then Dean blinks and seems to come back to himself and says, “Come on inside at least.”

It’s definitely not the reaction he was hoping for, but then again, maybe he should have talked to Dean about all this before he did it. Maybe all those times Dean bugged him about moving back were just jokes and he didn’t really want him to come back so soon? Thankfully, Dean takes his hand, and that eases some of his nerves while they walk into the house. When they get seated in the living room, Dean straddles him and settles into his lap without a word. He’s taken aback by the greeting but he doesn’t stop Dean from kissing him over and over or running his hands through his hair, and his heart soars when Dean starts murmuring, “I missed you so fucking much,” between kisses. 

By the time they break apart, he’s absolutely certain that he made the right choice to move here to be closer to Dean, and even if it doesn’t work between them and they just end up friends, at least he’ll have Dean in his life again.

“I’m so damn glad you’re here,” Dean finally says, sliding off of his lap and onto the couch next to him where their legs press together from hip to knee. 

“You’re not mad that I did all of that without talking to you about it first?”

“I don’t know,” Dean chuckles. “Maybe I’ll be mad later. I’m just too fucking happy you’re back to worry about anything else.”

Castiel smiles and ducks his head for another kiss, letting the familiar sensation of their lips lining up just right soothe some of his anxiety. “I missed you so much.” He kisses Dean again, sucking that full bottom lip of Dean’s between his own and swiping his tongue over it just to hear Dean’s breath hitch. He pulls away just enough to say, “I didn’t want to only have this on the weekends.”

“Fuck, me neither,” Dean agrees, kissing him once more and opening his mouth in an invitation Castiel is more than happy to accept. This is the longest he hasn’t kissed Dean since the very first time, and the familiar taste of _ Dean _ has a whimper dragged out of his throat all the way from the bottom of his feet. Dean makes a sound mirroring his, and he literally has to wrench his lips away before he loses sight of his goal here. 

“Shit,” Dean whispers, gnawing on the inside of his lip nervously. “Can we fuck now and talk later?”

Castiel closes his eyes and groans pitifully at the very real temptation dangled in front of him. “I’m trying to have an important, potentially life-changing conversation, here.”

Dean’s eyes are dancing with laughter when he leans in. “Later,” he suggests, and then Dean kisses him again, pulling him in by the back of his neck, and it’s just like it was that first night all over again. He can’t help himself. He loves Dean and he wants him, and he gives into the urge to feel his body pressed against Dean’s. He pushes Dean onto his back, lining up their groins and grinding them together, devouring the desperate sound Dean makes against his lips. 

_ “Cas,” _ Dean moans, spreading his legs wider and pressing a hand into his tailbone to urge him to grind harder, closer, dirtier. “Cas, _ fuck.” _

“I love you,” Castiel tells him, nudging under his chin to kiss along his neck while he rolls his hips, thrusting against him.

“Love you, Cas. Fuck, I love you.” Dean wraps one leg around his waist and Castiel takes the chance to get his hand on that ass he loves so much. One squeeze has Dean calling out, thrusting up, and stuttering, “L-live with me.”

His cock is almost all the way hard, and he can feel it getting heavier between his legs even as he freezes, pushes up to his elbows, and gazes down at the man he loves. He searches his eyes for the truth. Did Dean mean that or was it some kind of moment of insanity brought on by passion?

“Really?” he questions.

“I...” Dean stops, drags his hand down his face until he’s scrubbing at his jaw. Though he’s loathe to do it, Castiel pulls him back up so that they’re sitting side by side again. Dean’s hand slides around to rub nervously at the back of his neck for a few seconds before he looks up at him out of the corner of his eyes. “A part of me knows it’s crazy, but...”

“It doesn’t _ feel _ crazy,” Castiel offers optimistically, his heart beating a mile a minute now that he’s admitted even that much. What if that’s not what Dean was going to say? What if it _ does _ feel crazy to Dean and _ he’s _ the one who’s actually lost his mind?

“It doesn’t,” Dean agrees. His eyes are soft when they meet his again. “Being apart felt crazy ‘cause all I wanted to do was be with you.”

That’s exactly the kind of thing he was hoping to hear, and he can’t stop himself from kissing Dean once more, the weight of his relief making the kiss hard and firm. When Dean chases his lips he’s happy to do it again and again until smiles start to tighten their lips, making it almost impossible to keep kissing because joy is overpowering even arousal right now.

“Thatta yes?” Dean asks, making Castiel’s heart flutter so hard it feels like it just grew a pair of wings. 

“That’s a, _ ‘Thank god I don’t have to live on the streets,’” _ Castiel answers, capturing Dean’s lips once more. “It doesn't have to be forever,” he says, Dean still plucking away at his lips. “Just until I find a place.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean disagrees, his hands moving through his hair now in a gesture so intricately linked to Dean in his mind that he feels his insides turn to mush. Dean leans back a little, presumably so Castiel can see his satisfied smirk before he says, “I’m calling dibs.”

“Dibs on what?” 

“Dibs on you. On _ living _ with you. At getting a shot at being batshit fucking crazy with you for as long as we can stand each other.”

Relief and happiness bloom so fast and so powerfully that he’s smiling bigger than he’s ever smiled in his life, so big his cheeks hurt, he knows his stupid gums are showing, and for once in his life he doesn’t even care because Dean is looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters and he feels exactly the same way in return.

“Dibs back then. On you,” he replies, his smile not fading in the least.

Dean sucks in air between his teeth and clicks his tongue. “I think you might have to fight for me. I don’t know if you know or not, but I’m kinda a big deal around here.”

“I feel like I might’ve heard something about that a time or two,” Castiel teases him. 

“I guess it’s a good thing you called dibs when we were 17.”

Castiel’s face lights up as the video comes back to him. “Ha! I did, didn’t I?”

Dean snuggles in, drops his head on his shoulder. “Even recorded it so everybody could see it.”

“Well, you’re a hot commodity around here, you know. I knew I had to make my claim publicly.”

Dean sighs happily, and his voice is sincere with no remaining trace of teasing left in it when he says, “I really did miss you.”

“I missed you, too. I didn’t even make it a night alone,” Castiel admits. When Dean questions that with a hum, he explains, “I got into bed Wednesday night without you and I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me.”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Dean confesses, sounding amused. “How lame is that?”

He kisses Dean’s temple with a sappy smile on his face because he’s right, it’s extremely lame, but it still makes him weirdly happy. “I couldn’t get over how my apartment didn’t ever feel like home until you got there, and then it went right back to feeling like four walls when you left.”

“You fuckin’ sap,” Dean says, but he can hear in the way he says it that Dean doesn’t really think he’s a sap at all. Or, if he does, that he doesn’t mind in the least. 

“That’s all it took for me to know that I was right that first night you stayed with me. You’re home for me. You’ve been home for me since I was four years old and I think you probably always will be. That’s when I realized that just because it’s crazy to move home to be with you doesn’t mean it’s _ wrong. _ I mean, I’ve been doing ‘the right thing’ my whole life and what did it ever get me besides miserable?”

“You know what? Same, Cas.” Dean nods his head in agreement. “I wasn’t miserable, but I wasn’t happy, either. Not like I am now that we’re together.”

“I believe you once told me you were too wholesome to find happiness,” Castiel recalls, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. 

“True story.”

“Funny thing is I believed the wholesome part right until I found out about the panty thing.”

Dean snorts shallowly. “Believe it or not, the general public hasn’t figured out that little tidbit of information when it comes to me.”

“Well, since I called dibs on you, maybe they won’t.”

“Maybe they won’t,” Dean echoes, slotting their fingers together. They sit for a few seconds in an easy silence, just enjoying being close to one another again. He’s absolutely exhausted, and his eyes close without his permission until Dean rouses him again a few minutes later. “I thought you were gonna be here later, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, I should have told you when I was coming but I didn’t want to tell you about my job over the phone.”

“No, I know, that isn’t what I meant. I was just tryin’ to say that I was kinda expecting you’d come in here closer to bedtime...” The hand that just took his lets go and rubs the inside of his thigh, slowly but surely creeping upwards between his legs. Dean turns his head and Castiel feels his lips graze his neck. “And I figured I wouldn’t have to wait too long before I got you in bed.”

If he didn’t already guess where this was going, he certainly does when he feels Dean’s palm rub over his crotch. “I see.”

Dean places his other hand on Castiel’s cheek, turning his head towards him before tugging him in to nip at his lips. “So I put on my favorite pair of underwear just so you could take them off.”

His heart thuds hard at the mention of Dean in panties, and his cock begins filling with anticipation. “I bet you look unbelievable in them.”

“They’re black satin.” Castiel groans and licks into Dean’s mouth eagerly, covering Dean’s body with his when he leans back onto the couch, already impossibly aroused now that he knows Dean has satin covering his dick. When he trails his mouth down Dean’s neck, Dean continues, “But they’ve got lace panels on the sides.”

“Fuck.” He can practically see the way Dean’s slight hips will look clad in lace in his head and he’s desperate for the real thing.

Their lips come back together and Castiel kisses him with everything he’s got, flicking his tongue the way he knows drives Dean wild, and it’s like that’s the spark that sets fire to them both. Dean manages to pull Castiel’s shirt up and over his head, and because he’s unwilling to get off of Dean for even a moment, he settles with pushing Dean’s shirt up and latching onto his nipple instead. Dean is always so eager for his touch when it comes to his nipples, so with his back arched, Castiel takes the opportunity to undo Dean’s fly and pull down his pants. 

The very first glance of Dean’s cock encased by satin has heat racing through his veins, and he practically dives on his cock, mouthing over his length while his hands skirt up the lacy sides. 

“Mother fucker,” Dean gasps, and Castiel just goes harder, sucking on Dean’s cock through his panties, desperate to get a taste of the bitter fluid seeping into the fabric. He moans once the flavor hits his tongue, and Dean thrusts into the vibration, rubbing his cock into his face hard enough that the flushed tip escapes the thin elastic band. 

“Holy shit that’s hot,” Castiel breathes, and then he’s swiping his tongue along the glistening tip poking out the top.

He elicits a sharp intake of air from his boyfriend before he makes some unintelligible noise that sounds like, “Hhhnngg,” but quickly turns into a chant. “Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me, Cas.”

“N-no lube,” Castiel realizes too late, still rubbing his palms over the enticing material on his hips, remembering exactly how good lace had felt on his cock earlier this week. 

“Bedroom.”

Castiel swirls his tongue around the leaking cockhead still weeping for him, happily slurping up the mess. “Too far. Can’t wait. I need to see you come in these panties for me.”

Dean whimpers, his fingers sliding into Castiel’s hair, guiding his head to start bobbing shallowly along his length and curling his tongue over that spot on the underside of Dean’s cock. “Ffffuck. Like that, Cas.” Castiel obliges him, applying generous suction as he swallows down his cock time and time again, making sure to stimulate the tiny bundle of nerves that turns Dean to putty, and when Dean starts thrusting into his mouth he slackens his jaw and takes everything Dean wants to give him. He uses his free hand to fondle Dean’s balls through his panties, working his cock and his scrotum in tandem, saliva and precum mixing together until Dean’s panties are almost soaked. 

Dean’s hard as steel wrapped in soft, smooth skin, his cock blood-warm and throbbing in his mouth, and _ god _ he missed this. He missed the weight of Dean’s cock on his tongue, missed feeling his boyfriend’s arousal pulsing in his mouth, missed how he can tell just by that and how Dean’s thighs are clenching that he’s already close. 

He pulls off and drags Dean’s cockhead along the seam of his lips, watching Dean watching him with his face sweaty and flushed. “Are you going to come in your panties or all over my face, Mr. Winchester?”

_ “Shit,” _Dean curses, looking like the decision is actually painful to make. His green eyes drop to his lips and he says, “Face. N-no, panties. Panties, fuck.”

Desire pierces him like an arrow at the very thought. “You know how much I like that, don’t you? You want to be good for me and cum in your panties.”

_ “Yes!” _

“You’re so good, Dean. Tell me when,” Castiel urges him, and then he relaxes his throat and takes him into the root. He makes eye contact once he’s got Dean’s cock held comfortably in his throat and Dean starts cursing a blue streak. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. _ Cas. _Gonna come. Gonna come so fucking hard, make such a—such a mess in my panties for you.” Castiel hums his encouragement, pulling off to swirl his tongue around before he takes him right back down. “Gonna ruin these panties. They’ll n-never—never come clean again. They’ll be so dirty with cum just the way you like ‘em ‘cause I’m s-so—so—” Castiel moans again, needing to hear him say it. “So g—”

“Have no fear, the party’s h—OH MY GOD!” 

Castiel’s heart stops. His brain freezes. He can’t even force his mouth to stop sucking on Dean’s dick because _ that’s Charlie’s voice _ in Dean’s house while he’s giving his panty-wearing boyfriend a blow job on the couch. 

“Dean? What the—OH _ GOD.” _

Annnd that’s Sam, and thankfully, enough so that his brain kicks in and he jerks away, Dean’s cock slipping out from between his lips. 

“GET OUT!” Dean roars as Castiel scrambles to get up to his knees. 

“Aw jeez,” Sam complains. 

“HOLY MOSES, are you wearing women’s underwear?” Charlie asks, sounding fascinated by the possibility. Even knowing it’s too late now, Castiel grabs the closest article of clothing he can find and throws it over Dean’s exposed crotch. 

“LALALALALA,” Sam chants loudly. “Come on!” he says, ushering a blonde out of the house that Castiel hadn’t noticed until now. 

“I SAID GET OUT!” Dean screams again. 

“Okay just come—I mean—” She snorts, giggles, and sounds slightly hysterical when she starts talking again. “Find us when you’re finished. Done. _ Dressed!” _ she finally settles on, and only then is there a click of the front door closing. 

Castiel buries his face in his hands, unsure if he’s more embarrassed for himself or for Dean. He’s about to move into a _ very tiny town _ where two of his best friends just saw him enthusiastically choking on Dean’s cock while he was wearing women's underwear? Why? Why would the universe do this to him?

“I, uh,” Dean stops, clears his throat. “I was gonna throw you a welcome home party. I forgot I invited them over for five o’clock to eat and then help set shit up.” 

Castiel nods as that sinks in, prying his hands off of his own face to look at Dean. “Did you happen to see who was standing in the doorway?” he asks gently. 

“No? Who else was here?” Dean’s face screws up into one of absolute horror. “Was it—oh my god—please tell me it wasn’t my mom?”

Castiel shakes his head solemnly, suddenly incredibly grateful that it wasn’t. “Becky Rosen.”

Dean’s eyes go wide wide with fear, his shoulders slump, and his chin hits his chest. “Everybody’s gonna know.”

Castiel tilts his chin up. “I’m sorry. If it helps at all, the only people whose opinions really matter when it comes to this are ours, and we’re both very okay with it.” 

Dean rolls his eyes bitterly, but at least he’s okay enough to joke, “You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause you love me.” Castiel smiles fondly at him, and that’s when his green eyes light up. “I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“If we tell them all we’re moving in together, maybe they’ll think _ that— _”

“Is crazy?” Castiel finishes for him, knowing perfectly well what everybody is going to think. 

“Is crazy _ enough _ that the panties won’t seem like that big of a deal?”

Castiel slides their hands together, willing to humor Dean if he really thinks that will help. “Whatever you want to do.” 

Dean nods, then looks down at where his cock is still obviously hard. “How do you feel about alleviating blue balls before the party starts?”

“I suggest you change out of those underwear while I let our friends back inside, and I’ll do what I can to help you with that after they leave.”

“I guess that’s the only choice I have. I’m never gonna calm down knowing it’s your mouth that got the satin all wet.” Dean kisses him quickly, then they both get up and find their clothes. “I was so close, too,” he whines. 

Castiel pulls his shirt back on, and the two of them separate at the foyer where Dean goes to his bedroom and Castiel walks towards the front door. 

He’s just opened it to beckon everybody inside with a wave, and he’s about to take a case of beer from Sam to help him out when he hears Dean call from the bedroom, “I call coming first.”

Sam meets his eyes, and it’s so incredibly awkward the only thing he can think to say to fill the silence is, “I’m moving in with Dean.”

Becky and Charlie both _ squeal _ from behind Sam, and Mary—who he didn’t even realize had shown up—says, “I’m sorry, _ what?” _

As Castiel stands there feeling like a deer in the headlights, Sam walks past him shaking his head with a fond smile on his face. “Welcome home, Castiel.” 

Sam gives him a pat on the back on the way by, and even though he can feel the glare he’s getting from Mary while Charlie launches herself at him and starts jumping up and down excitedly, he can’t completely hide the smile on his face, because as crazy as this moment is, he knows he’s finally back where he belongs. 


	9. Chapter 9

**ONE YEAR LATER:**

Dean walks into The Roadhouse to a round of greetings, which has him forcing a tight smile onto his face that doesn’t convince anyone. He stops just long enough to say a quick hi to both Jo and Ellen anyway, and then he continues through behind the bar and towards the back, taking a hard right to avoid the kitchen. Cas’s office door is open just a crack, so he pushes it open and finds Cas frowning at his computer screen with a crease between his eyebrows that vanishes as soon as he sees him.

They’ve been together for more than a year now, but he still feels those damn butterflies in his stomach when Cas smiles one of those smiles that’s just for him, even if he does want to strangle him at the moment.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean holds up the lunch bag that Cas forgot at home. 

Again.

“Don’t try bein’ cute with me.” Cas’s smile falls at the angry tone of his voice. “It’s two o’clock, Cas, and even though you’ve got a whole restaurant literally at your fingertips, I know for a damn fact you haven’t eaten anything since this morning—and I don’t even know if that _ counts _ since it was fucking granola.”

“Granola is good for you,” Cas replies timidly.

“Is it good for you if it’s the only thing you eat all day every day while you’re working your ass off?”

Cas looks chastised, but says, “I’m sorry I forgot to eat lunch. I’m just up to my elbows in December year-ends and if I don’t get them done by the end of the month—”

“I get it, okay?” he interrupts. He’s already heard this a thousand times. “I know how hard you’ve been working, but you’re gonna kill yourself if you don’t take _ at least _ ten minutes a day and put some food in your mouth.”

Cas rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “I’m not going to _ kill myself _ if I skip lunch every now and then.”

“You are if you skip lunch every now and then, don’t take any breaks during an 11 hour work day, _ and _ work as late as you worked last night.”

“It’s just June—”

“That’s what you said about April,” Dean cuts in with. When he sees Cas’s face turn stony, he deliberately softens his voice and says, “I don’t wanna fight, Cas. I just want you to eat your damn lunch. Please. I’m—I’m worried sick over here, okay?”

He falls into the chair across from Cas’s desk, and even though his eyes are closed when he rubs his aching head, he can hear Cas get up to come crouch between his knees. Cas’s big hands settle on his thighs, and Dean opens his eyes to see dull, sad, blue eyes looking up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Because he can see that Cas _ is _ sorry, he nods. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know,” Dean replies. 

“I know the last few months have been busy but I mean it when I tell you it’s just a few more days. Once I get these Junes out I’m going to be looking for work again in a few weeks.”

“But you’re gonna take a week off with me in July, right?” Dean checks.

“Absolutely. And one in August like we talked about.” Cas brushes his thumbs back and forth on his thighs. “Will you use it against me later if I tell you thinking about a week alone with you without work or any other obligations might be the only thing keeping me going right now?”

Dean sits up straighter, urging Cas to get to his feet so his knees aren’t shot from crouching, and pushes him back a little so he’s leaning back against his desk. He takes his hands and gives into the impulse to kiss the back of each of them. “It’s the only thing keeping me from throwing you over my shoulder and handcuffing you to the bed—” Cas’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he clarifies, “—to make you get more than six hours of sleep a night for once, you perv.”

Cas chuckles while he opens his paper bagged lunch, pulling out the peanut butter sandwich he takes to work with him almost every single day, though half of the time it’s peanut butter and grape jelly. “I miss sleep,” he says wistfully.

“I miss _ you.” _

Cas looks so sad he instantly wishes he hadn’t said that, although it’s true. “I thought I was the only one.”

Dean shakes his head, blowing out a sad breath. “I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t want you to think I’m not happy,” Dean says. “‘Cause I am. I’m still so damn happy you took a chance on me and moved in and I love you...” He has to pause, because the sheer amount of love he feels for Cas every single fucking day is still hard for him to process. “... so damn much, Cas, but there’s some days I wake up to an empty bed and I miss you so much I feel like I can’t fucking breathe.”

Cas puts his sandwich down and sinks right back to his knees, pulling Dean into his arms where he holds him so damn tight it’s taking everything he’s got not to dissolve into a puddle of tears right here and now. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t know it was affecting you this much.”

“Didn’t want to worry you,” Dean says quietly.

Cas just keeps hugging him, and he doesn’t let go. Cas has been so glued to his laptop at home over the last few weeks that he’s been feeling touch-starved after getting used to all of the attention Cas usually lavishes on him. “I’ll hire help,” Cas says for the first time. “I promise I’ll get somebody else in here with me before tax season starts up again, okay?”

“Seriously?” Dean asks, drawing away enough to look at his face. “What happened to all of that ‘an employee will cut into my earnings’ crap from before?”

Cas smiles at him with his eyes, his lips just barely curving up. “I’m starting to get used to the idea that I’m not supporting an entire household on my own anymore.”

Dean purses his lips and nods towards where Cas put his sandwich down. Cas gets back up and takes another bite, deliberately exaggerating to make him happy, and Dean says, “Was wondering what you were doin’ with all that money.”

“Nothing,” Cas answers, sounding sheepish around a mouthful of sandwich. “It’s just sitting in the bank.”

“I might actually kill you,” he deadpans.

Because Cas is a little shit, that makes him smile. A _ real _ smile. One that reaches his eyes and scrunches up his nose, and Dean’s reminded yet again just how much he loves the stupid dork. 

Obviously sensing a weakness, Cas says, “Listen, June 30th is a Tuesday. What if I told you I’ll take the rest of that week off _ plus _ another whole week off in July?”

“In return for me not wringing your neck right now?” Cas nods his reply, and Dean pretends to consider. “No work emails, and the only time you’re allowed to use your laptop is when you’re writing your novel. QuickBooks pisses you off even faster than Trump,” he mutters. 

“You have yourself a deal, Mr. Winchester.” When Dean doesn’t make a move to get up, Cas eyes him for a few seconds while he chews and opens his drink, then says, “You’re going to sit here and make sure I eat my whole lunch, aren’t you?”

“Just the sandwich. And for the record, it’s cute as hell that you bring a juice box to work.”

“You’re only saying that because you love me,” Cas says, a familiar retort that makes his insides warm.

“I really, _ really _ do.”

He sits quietly and watches Cas finish his lunch, absentmindedly thinking how normal it feels to just sit in the relative silence with Cas, and then once Cas is finished, he gets to his feet and notices the worst of his worry is gone now. Cas follows him the few steps to the office door, but when he turns to tell him he’ll see him at home later, Cas tugs him into another hug. 

As always, he sinks into it, letting the strong arms of the man he loves like no other hold him up, knowing without a doubt that he will. Once they pull apart, Cas’s fingers trace the lines Dean’s starting to get at the corner of his eyes and the bags underneath them from losing sleep because he just can’t get comfortable without Cas anymore. “You haven’t been sleeping either.”

Dean shrugs a single shoulder, still much more worried about Cas than himself. “I’ll be home tonight by six, and I’ll make sure to leave my laptop here.”

Dean’s heart fills so fast he doesn’t know how it doesn’t explode. “I love you.”

“I love _ you. _ Thank you for bringing me my lunch.” Cas steps in closer then, and he makes a mental note that maybe he should stop by with lunch more often if it gets him a soft, lingering kiss like this every time. 

“I got you, Cas. Always.”

Cas kisses him real quick once more, and Dean walks out of Cas’s office and The Roadhouse feeling a hell of a lot better than he did walking in. 

Cas is home at six on the dot that night, with pizza and flowers of all fucking things in his hands, and though Dean blushes like a virgin, he fusses over them so much he changes the vase three different times before he’s satisfied. Cas has his hands on his hips and his chin hooked over his shoulder the whole time he snips the stems and arranges them, and when he turns around to place them in the middle of the kitchen table, Cas catches his lips in a deep, deep kiss. 

It’s the kind of kiss he’s only ever shared with Cas, a kiss that’s smoking hot in the way that it _ isn’t _ because its slow and smoldering instead, and still, he knows instinctively that when Cas kisses him _ like this _ it’s only going to end well for him. 

Cas makes love to him then. He lays him on their bed and worships every inch of his skin, bringing him to the edge over and over again between whispering apologies and how much he’s missed him, how much he appreciates him, how much he loves him, how much he’ll _ always _ love him. Cas opens him up tortuously slow with his mouth and his fingers, and when Cas finally slips inside of him like the missing piece, he feels complete, body, mind, and soul, and he knows he’ll bring Cas lunch every day for the rest of his life if it means he can help make him happy, healthy, and _ here _ forever. 

The cold pizza they eat afterwards straight out of the box has never tasted so good, and falling asleep with his head on Cas’s chest and waking up with his back pressed to Cas’s chest the next morning is almost as sweet as knowing this is exactly what he wants for the rest of his life.

•••

  
Three weeks later, Dean is stretching one arm up over his head so he can use it as a pillow. “This is the life,” he says happily. 

Considering he’s lying on one of those lounge chairs he’s only ever seen on TV at fancy resorts until now (which is exactly where he is) with the sun beating down on him, a frozen drink in his hand complete with a tiny umbrella, and his eyes currently drinking in the sight of his boyfriend all golden-skinned and still dripping from their most recent dip in the ocean, it’s not hard to imagine why he’s enjoying himself so much.

“And to think it took a whole year to talk you into it,” Cas says smugly.

“Yeah, yeah. You were right, I was wrong. I can’t even care when I’m this _ relaxed.” _

Cas laughs quietly beside him, and his lazy smile grows when Cas tugs his hand out from under his head and pulls it onto his chest so their fingers can slide together instead. 

“Seriously,” Dean says, more quietly now. “This has been awesome, and I’m really glad you’re annoying enough to nag me for a year until I said yes.”

Cas huffs like he’s insulted, but ultimately shrugs. “I guess I can’t take offence to that since it did work in my favor.”

They’re both distracted by a gaggle of young women giggling and looking away really fast when he and Cas turn towards them. Dean rolls his eyes once he looks back at Cas. “How much you wanna bet they’re talking about how hot we are together?”

“We?” Cas repeats. “I’m pretty sure the tall one is currently pretending to take a group selfie just so she can take a photo of your abs of steel, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean glances over his shoulder, and much to his horror, it looks like Cas might be right. He makes a split second decision and pulls Cas’s hand down to his crotch to thrust into it while he sticks his tongue out lewdly.

Cas snatches his hand back with a mortified sounding, _ “Dean!” _that’s almost as funny as the girls’ loud laughter as the group of them scampers away now that they’ve been caught. He turns back to Cas with a big smile on his face and Cas just shakes his head. “It’s all fun and games until that ends up on some porn site on the internet.”

Dean barks with laughter. “That’s some pretty mild porn, Cas.”

“Famous last words,” Cas says staunchly.

Dean just keeps on smiling while he takes another sip from his drink. “What do you wanna do?”

“This,” Cas replies. “I’ll set a timer for an hour so we remember to put sunscreen on again.”

Dean’s voice is fond when he says, “Nerd.”

Though he’s pretty sure they both fall asleep, they wake up before the alarm because the sun is so damn hot today. They run back out into the ocean, and the first cool splash of water is almost as spectacular as the feeling of wet sand between his toes. They walk out until they’re up to their waists, and then both dive under. The ocean is phenomenal, and even though this is their third and final full day out here (with two days of driving on either side), he’s nowhere close to getting over having a white sand beach just steps away from their room. He always figured himself to be more of a pool guy than a beach guy, and while they’ve definitely spent some time in the many pools on the resort, he’s discovered there’s nothing quite like the scent of salt in the air when he surfaces for a breath.

He shakes the water out of his hair like a dog, laughing at the annoyed look on Cas’s face when he gets sprayed, and doesn’t see it coming _ at all _ when one of Cas’s big hands comes down on his head and dunks him under again. 

He comes back up sputtering, spitting water out of his mouth, and shoves the handsome jerk back a foot when he hears him laughing.

“Fuck you,” Dean says lightly.

“Maybe later,” Cas tosses back, and well—how do you stay mad at that? He can’t, of course, especially not when Cas circles around him to approach him from behind, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the slope of his neck. “I needed this.”

Dean smirks to himself, feeling satisfaction bloom deep inside of him, and says, “Why do you think I finally said yes?” He feels Cas tense behind him as his words sink in, and before he can get another word out, the fucker dunks him _ again. _ He comes up with a mouthful of water and spits it directly in Cas’s face, laughing maniacally when Cas curses. “You deserved it!”

“You are so _ childish,” _ Cas complains.

“Are you kidding me?” He can hardly believe his ears. “You freaking started it!” 

“And I’m gonna finish it,” Cas threatens with a goofy smile, launching himself at him with a ridiculous battle cry and trying to force him under water again. 

Dean’s more prepared this time, though, and he’s not going down without a fight. There’s wet scrappling, laughter, curses, and an unfortunate elbow to his jaw that has his eyes watering and everything coming to a screeching halt when Cas hears the pain-laced, “Son of a bitch,” before his hand flies to his face. His eyes are watering while Cas goes wide-eyed and flies into action.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry! It was an accident! Let me look,” Cas says all in a rush, pulling his hand away and gasping at whatever he sees. “How is it possibly bruising already? Oh no, I bruised my boyfriend’s face. I’m—I’m an abuser!”

“Oh my god,” Dean wheezes. “Put the gloves down, Rocky. You didn’t hit me on purpose.”

“That’s what they all say!” Dean laughs again, but the ache in his jaw has him wincing and it’s suddenly not so funny. “Honestly, Dean, there’s a bruise spreading on your jaw. I think we should put some ice on it.”

“Cas, it’s fine.”

“I’m serious.” Cas is already pulling him by his hand towards shore, and if he knows anything about Cas it’s that there’s no changing his mind when he has it set on something. So he goes along with it, and less than twenty minutes later, he’s laid up in their room with an ice pack held to his jaw and an incredibly distracting Cas who is currently pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. Cas is still shirtless and his shorts must still be a little damp because they’re hanging deliciously low on his hips, showing off the sexy as fuck wing tattoo on his lower back, and paired with his tanned skin and messy hair from the ocean, he’s looking extremely fuckable. 

If he would stop pacing like a madman. 

“Cas,” Dean says, trying to get his attention without really opening his mouth, because as much as he plans to pretend otherwise for Cas’s benefit, his jaw fucking _ hurts. _Cas is still muttering to himself though, something about peas and a band, and he’s clearly spiraling, so Dean says his name again. Louder and more sharply. “Cas!”

Cas spins, eyes wide, and scurries over to his side. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, you need to calm the hell down before you wear a path in the fancy ceramic floor. It’s just a bruise. I got more banged up playing football.”

“Did you see the way the woman at the concierge desk was looking at me? She thought I punched you! I saw her looking at my knuckles.”

“She did not,” Dean says tiredly. “And even if she thinks that, we both know it was a fluke. We were just horsing around. You gotta let it go, Cas.”

“I feel like such an idiot. We leave tomorrow morning and I had a nice night planned and now you have a bruised jaw and I just—I ruined everything.”

“What do you mean you had a nice night planned? Thought we had a dinner reservation for 8 o’clock at that meat place?”

“We do,” Cas says, waving his question away. “At the Rodízio restaurant. That’s what I meant.”

“Okay, well, I’m still gonna need to eat even with a bruised jaw, so don’t worry about it. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Do you think they’ll let you into the restaurant like that?”

“They carry around hunks of meat from table to table,” Dean tells him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I just—I’ve had such a great time. The drive down and the whole three days here so far have been _ perfect _ and I feel like such a jerk for doing this to you on our last day,” Cas admits, looking defeated. 

“Cas, come on,” Dean says gently. “This time next week we’re both gonna be cracking up when we’re telling Sam about how you smoked me in the face.”

Cas smiles at least, and he takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I just wanted everything to stay perfect.”

“Real life ain’t perfect,” he reminds him. “But honestly, even with a bruised jaw, I think we got it as good as anybody and a hell of a lot better than most.”

Most of the worry on Cas’s face disappears, and he reaches out to move the ice pack off of Dean’s jaw. He carefully turns Dean’s head so that he can see his face, and then Dean’s _ melting _when Cas leans in to press a whisper-soft kiss on the patch of mostly-frozen skin where his bruise is. “I love you, and you’re absolutely right. Most people don’t have as much fun in a year as I’ve had with you this week.”

Dean smiles happily. “Same, Cas.” He rubs his hand over the side of Cas’s neck lovingly. “Why don’t you come up here with me and take a load off for a few minutes? You’ve been pacing and weirdly high-pitched since the beach.”

Cas rolls his eyes fondly, but climbs up into bed with Dean. Cas grabs the ice pack and gently places it on his bruise, and they spend the next hour doing twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off, holding hands and watching TV, and even though he’s not on the beach like he planned to be, it still feels like paradise. 

Castiel walks into the dingy motel bathroom the next night to brush his teeth, instantly wrinkling his nose in disgust when the scent of what can only be Dean’s shit hits his nostrils.

“Seriously?” he complains, walking right back out to the bedroom. “How many times do I have to ask you not to have your nightly shit before I brush my teeth?”

“What do you want me to do? Not go to the bathroom when I need to?” Dean asks.

“Just give me a two minute warning so I can brush my teeth without smelling your shit. Is that really so much to ask?”

“Fine,” Dean says snippily. Castiel sits on the end of the bed to give the bathroom a few minutes to air out. “You’re not really mad, are you?” Dean checks.

“Just annoyed,” Castiel assures him, giving his ankle a soft tap. “Thankfully for you, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I moved in last year.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m kinda horny.”

Castiel snorts. “Well, nothing gets my libido going quite like the stink of a recently used bathroom,” he says sarcastically.

“Can you just blow me then? I’ll owe you one.”

Castiel rolls onto his stomach to get in position between his knees. “You should’ve said something when you were driving. I’ve been wanting to give you road head in the Impala since I was 16.”

“God damn I love you,” Dean says, lifting his hips so Castiel can take his boxers off for him.

•••

  
“Home, sweet home,” Dean calls out, throwing the front door of their house open and stepping through the entrance.

Castiel is smiling softly because for the first time he can remember, he actually feels like he’s coming home after a vacation. There was always a certain comfort knowing he was going to sleep in his own bed when he walked through the front door of his apartment, but it’s nothing like what he feels as he steps into Dean’s house. 

There’s framed photos of the two of them on the small table right inside the door where they leave their keys and wallets. His trench coat is hanging in the closet next to Dean’s leather jacket. The hat, mitts, and scarf he knit Dean more than ten years ago are on the small shelf in there next to the ones he just knit him this past winter, though Dean still grabs the worn ones more often than not. His mattress is in their room where, again, there are photos of each of them on each other’s nightstands. His is a photo of Dean out at the tunnel, his eyes greener than the trees all around him, and Castiel’s personal favorite attribute, his freckles multiplied by the summer sun. Dean has one of him laughing with his face tilted down, his nose scrunched up, and his gums showing, and when he had complained about how much he hates his smile, Dean told him it was his favorite thing about him, and he believed him.

His blue plates are in the cupboard mixed with the off-white ones Dean had, but his wine glasses are still the only ones they own. There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge next to their beer, and come grocery day, Dean will be muttering under his breath about how _ kale _ makes it taste funny even though they both know it doesn’t. 

“I’ll ride you later if you don’t nag me to unpack until tomorrow,” Dean bargains, letting his suitcase fall where they stand in the foyer. Castiel closes the door behind him as he thinks about what a normal, domestic, _ Dean _ thing that is to say, and without thinking about it for more than a second, he drops to one knee then and there. He pulls out the ring he’s been carrying around with him in his pocket since they left for California, and waits for Dean to turn to face him. 

When he does, the look of absolute shock on Dean’s face turning quickly into hope and happiness is something he knows he’ll never forget as long as he lives.

“I wanted to do this a thousand times over the last week. I thought of doing it in your car, at the first motel we stopped at, to shut you up when you were bitching at me to just pick a fucking drink when we stopped at Sonic.” Dean lets out a broken sound between a laugh and a sob, and Castiel’s throat feels unexpectedly thick with emotion. “I thought of doing it on the balcony of the resort, on the beach, during dinner, and even talked to the band there to play that terrible Black Eyed Peas song we danced to at the reunion before I accidentally elbowed you in the face.” This time Dean’s laugh is more of an actual laugh and less of a sob, though Dean’s eyes are most certainly wet. “And then I walked in here with you and felt like I had a home for the first time in my entire life _ because _of you, because you let me in in every sense of the word, and I couldn’t wait another second.” 

He lifts the simple, thick, silver band between his fingers and says, “I have loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I know that I will love you for the rest of my life. Make me the luckiest man in the world and the most hated man in town for officially taking you off the market and say you’ll be my husband, Mr. Winchester.”

The first tear spills over and rolls down Dean’s face, and then Castiel’s entire world stops when Dean shakes his head back and forth. _ No. _ No? He can’t—he can’t even _ think. _ He can’t process this. Dean doesn’t—?

But then Dean drops to his knees in front of him, and the smile on his face makes his heart re-start again. “Novak,” Dean says, taking the ring out of Castiel’s hand and slipping it on his finger. “Mr. _ Novak. _ I wanna be yours, Cas. Yes. _ Hell yes. _ I’ll marry the ever-loving fuck outta you.” They crash into one another’s arms, the sensation of Dean’s nose pressed into the curve of his neck so familiar and heartwarming that his eyes start filling, too. This is the best moment of his whole life and he can still hardly believe _ Dean _ loves him enough to marry him.

"Oh my god," he says, laughing through his tears. "I can't believe this! I'm so happy!"

"I love you so damn much," Dean says, sounding every bit as breathless as he feels. Dean squeezes him really tight for a split second, then Dean guides his head back with his hands in his hair until their lips come together. This kiss, their first kiss as an engaged couple, is imperfect in almost every way. They're both too emotional to really make it work, it's way too wet because of their tears, and they both have to keep pulling back to sniffle so they don't leak snot all over all each other, but he still knows he'll never forget it. 

They finally break apart for good, and Castiel gets the absolute honor of slipping his ring onto Dean's finger. "It's perfect," Dean comments. "Not so fancy I don't wanna wear it every day, and nice enough that everybody's gonna know I'm taken. Fits, too," Dean adds. Then before he can respond, Dean shoots him a crooked smile and says, “Hey, wanna hear something weird?”

A surprising change of subject considering the circumstances, but that’s one of the things he loves most about Dean: you never know what he’s going to say. “Sure,” he says, letting go so he can see his face.

“Let’s get my ass up offa the floor first,” Dean says, leading the way over to the couch. Once they’re settled in, Dean says, “That night you came home with flowers? That was the night I realized I wanted to marry you. Me and Sammy have been all over town looking for a ring but I couldn’t find one I liked before we left.” When Castiel chuckles quietly, Dean continues, “I had a whole thing planned out, though.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, flicking his eyes up to Castiel. “Wanna see?”

“Of course I wanna see.”

“I don’t know if you noticed or not after how nuts that night was, but we never got to see the video I made for the time capsule thing at the reunion last year. Thankfully Sammy recorded it with his phone, because it’s, uh, enlightening.”

Castiel is definitely intrigued. “How so?”

“Remember when I said a while ago that I might’ve been in love with you in high school but I’d probably never know for sure?” Castiel nods—of course he remembers that. “Well, it’s kinda crazy, but I think this answers that question.”

Castiel watches as Dean hits _ play _ on his phone. A huge smile spreads on his face at the sight of a 17-year-old Dean staring into the camera, wearing his letterman jacket and looking every bit as handsome as Castiel remembers.

“Hey everybody, this is Dean Winchester, starting quarterback. Go Lions!” His cheeks turn pink, and Castiel’s heart clenches in his chest. Is it any wonder he fell in love with this endearing boy so long ago? There's an obvious cut in the footage, an edit of some sort, he's guessing, then Dean continues, “Ten years from now, me and Cas’ll still be thick as thieves, guaranteed.” Castiel sees a flash of his white teeth, and Dean looks up and to the right like he’s actually looking into their future. “Living together, hanging out every day in our underwear watching football. We’ll be the talk of the town, man. Everybody’ll want to party at our place.” There’s an obvious cut in the footage, and then Dean says, “Marriage is for people who are looking for somebody to complete them or make them happy, and I’m not lookin’ for that any time soon, if ever. I already got Cas. Anybody else—uh, girls, I mean. Girls can come and go. They don’t matter as long as I get to make sure Cas keeps the stick out of his butt.” 

Then Dean looks directly at the camera and smiles so fondly Castiel knows _ exactly _ what Dean meant about figuring out that he was in love with him even back then, because this is _ exactly _ the way Dean looks at him now. Like Charlie said, Dean might as well have his feelings tattooed on his forehead. 

“Don’t ever change, Cas. Don’t ever change.”

Castiel turns back to his Dean now, his heart as full as it’s ever been. “This is crazy. I can’t believe I had no idea how you felt when you were _ that _ obvious about it.”

“If ya ask me, what’s really crazy is that I convinced anybody I was straight when that’s what they were lookin’ at,” Dean laughs.

“Well either way, I’m glad I get a whole life full of crazy with you fulfilling your dreams of watching TV in our underwear, even if it isn’t football.”

Dean grins at him, his green eyes sparking with laughter. “Only fair. You _ did _ call dibs.”

**THE END**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't technically part of the story, but just in case you wanted to see the filming of the time capsule video from Dean's POV without the edits, here it is :)

** 2009: **

17-year-old Dean Winchester aims a cocky smile at the video camera he doesn’t totally feel. He hates shit like this.

“Hey everybody, this is Dean Winchester, starting quarterback. Go Lions!”

He feels like a fucking idiot and has no clue what else he’s supposed to say, and he can feel a blush creeping across his cheeks. He looks at the guy behind the camera, Kevin something or other he recognizes from his science class, and admits, “I've got no clue what else I’m supposed to say, dude.”

“I’ve got some questions I can read off to prompt you? Then we can edit out the questions using video software later.”

“Okay, yeah. Hit me.”

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?” Kevin asks him.

Dean shrugs. “Probably living with Cas.”

“Cassie Robinson?”

“What?” Dean scoffs. “No. Cas Novak.”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replies, sounding slightly confused.

“We’ve been best friends forever,” Dean explains. Then, as he thinks about it, he says, “Ten years from now, me and Cas’ll still be thick as thieves, guaranteed.” He smiles just from the thought of having no curfew, nobody to tell them to go home to study or that it’s time for bed. “Living together, hanging out every day in our underwear, watching football. We’ll be the talk of the town, man. Everybody’ll want to party at our place.”

“You don’t think you’ll be married in ten years?” Kevin asks.

“Married?” Dean laughs. “Nah. Marriage is for people who are looking for somebody to, you know, complete them or make them happy or whatever, and I’m not lookin’ for that any time soon, if ever. I already got Cas. Anybody else—uh, girls, I mean. Girls can come and go. They don’t matter as long as I get to make sure Cas keeps the stick out of his ass. Or butt, sorry.”

“Anything else you want to add? Message to yourself, your fans, Cas maybe?”

He looks straight into the camera, thinking of an almost thirty-year-old Cas watching it ten years from now, and feels a pang in his chest at the very idea of him being anything other than exactly what he is. The next words come easily. “Don’t ever change, Cas. Don’t ever change.”


End file.
